


Always, Really and Forever

by Cyndi



Series: Autism isn't a tragedy! [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Acceptance, Alcoholism, Autism, Autism Acceptance, Autism Spectrum, Autistic, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Groot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Neurodiversity, Past Abuse, Rocket and Groot, Rocket barfs a lot in this, actuallyautistic, autistic Groot, autistic headcanon, emetophobes beware, introspective, nonverbal autistic!Groot, nonverbal-autistic!Groot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyndi/pseuds/Cyndi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friendship is the most understated form of love. </p><p>Groot’s quest to understand love goes awry when Rocket ends up in the hospital because of his out-of-control drinking. Without his social crutch around, Groot suddenly finds himself having to prove his competence again and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always, Really and Forever

**Author's Note:**

> I've set this after my first GotG fic, Being. As before, this story stars nonverbal autistic!Groot. I don't pretend to speak for every autistic person out there(we're all different in how it affects us), but neurodiversity needs more non-tragic representation.
> 
> Secondly, the relationship between Groot and Rocket is going to stay purely friendship. I'm lucky enough to have a friendship like theirs(HI DONNY!) and it is honestly one of the best kinds of friendship there is. I've got no problem with GrootxRocket fics, I just don't plan to take them that direction myself.
> 
> Thirdly, the medicines mentioned have made-up names because this doesn't take place on Earth. Any names resembling actual medications are purely coincidental.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING FOR AUTISTIC READERS: This fic shows the effects of abusive ABA-like therapy and self-injurious behavior(SIB).

.o

.o

 _"I will fall,_  
_and you will catch me always._  
_Time has taught me this..."_

\--Celine Dion, "I Know What Love Is"

.o

Xandarian bars were known for being crowded in the evening and this was no exception.

Groot pressed his forearms against the edge of the bar top to satisfy his need for pressure. Deep pressure gave him the wherewithal to continue withstanding this sensory minefield. Every occurrence of stimuli required conscious processing.

The fascinating black Lichtenberg patterns sprawled across the gray marble bar top? Acknowledged and currently in focus.

Glasses tapping? Ignored.

Shoes squeaking on the dance floor? Ignored with some difficulty.

A person bumping his back by accident in passing? Startling, but quickly ignored.

Rocket growling at Quill about cybernetics? Ignored for now.

Quill walking away? Ignored.

Colored lights blinking on the bartender's data pad? Ignored.

Krylorian cigar smoke? Ick...acknowledged until it faded. Kree cigars were better.

Silverware clanging horribly into the sink in the back? Ouch! Acknowledged!

Fancy, rattling jewelry? Noticed and promptly ignored.

Thirst? Acknowledged.

A bell-like voice repeating itself in front of him? Acknowledged and requiring focus. Groot faced the sprightly Krylorian bartender. She smiled at him with lips painted dark purple.

"More water for you, sir?"

He glanced at her mouth, smiled back automatically and nodded, pushing his nearly empty glass forward. She topped it off, making the little red flecks of fruit in the bottom swirl. Then her brown ponytail swished and she was gone to take another order.

The dinner hour rush was ending and the drinkers were trickling in. People departed by twos and threes until the general volume of the establishment dropped slightly.

Groot watched the water settle inside his glass and wished his sensory defensiveness would do the same.

Paying double digit units for water with fruit in it seemed strange, but he wasn't going to complain. Though he had little use for money himself, getting to spend it lavishly once in awhile felt kind of nice! He sipped his refreshing cold drink. It tasted vaguely fruity and he relished the burst of flavor.

Quill and the others got hired earlier to escort a very important Rainer ambassador to Xandar. Rocket blustered that they weren't babysitters until Gamora pointed out the offered payment.

Now, five thousand credits richer after dividing the money evenly, Groot spent the entire day in an art museum. Fifty percent of  _that_  trip was him playing with a most amazing laser theremin. The haunting musical pitches depended on one's body position inside a laser grid. Every twitch Groot made created swirls of color on the floor to go with each individual note. Standing still produced vast chords and rainbows. He'd never seen a physical manifestation of his own thought processes before! Naturally, that meant he ran to find Rocket, brought him back and shared his wondrous discovery.

Rocket still wouldn't admit to getting teary eyed.

Speaking of Rocket-- he blew half his units on upgrades for his gun and the most expensive drinks he could stomach.

Groot wished Rocket eased up on the booze. Ever since he heard alcohol hurt peoples' livers, he worried about his best friend poisoning himself by drinking too much. Rocket, of course, insisted he had it under control. But he didn't. He never did. He just went through dry spells whenever he couldn't afford the drinks he liked.

Rocket picked a stool and sat in it like he owned it. And there he stayed, ignoring everyone around him. He draped himself against the bar at just the right angle for the black lights to illuminate an ultraviolet ink tattoo on his right thumb. Three white letters:  _A, R, F_.

A sound shot through Groot's awareness, cutting off all thought. He flinched. It grated like speakers crackling because someone spoke too loud into a microphone receiver. There were many noises he could tolerate for short periods. This was not one of them. It drilled deep into his eardrums, overpowering everything else, and he had no hope of tuning it out.

Groot stared at the annoyance on his right. A cone-shaped glass full of ice and translucent orange fluid. Every time the ice struck the sides of the glass, it caused physical pain. Unaware of this blunder, the blond Xandarian businessman holding the glass kept jiggling it. The man wore a suit made of a silver-tinged material and his thick, coiffed hair appeared capable of withstanding a nuclear blast without moving. His booming bass voice blustered through the noisy air. And his darker-skinned partner, who wore an identical suit, albeit in blue, kept nodding his head. Every time he nodded, the fellow wearing silver gestured with the glass.

Plink!

PLINK!

_**PLINK!** _

Unable to stand it any longer, Groot scooped all of the ice from the man's glass and palmed it into his own mouth.

"Wha-- I beg your pardon!" the Xandarian snapped, "You better have the credits to replace that!"

Groot crunched the ice with his teeth and stood up. Sharp nettles sprouted off the bark on his shoulders. He loomed silently over both men while they stared upward at him in open-mouthed shock. Sometimes, being over seven feet tall had its perks. His size elicited several apologies followed by swiftly retreating footsteps.

Satisfied, Groot retracted the nettles and reclaimed his stool. The abandoned drink sat all by its lonesome on the fancy bar top. One great thing about this place-- the menu had pictures alongside the text and prices. Groot compared the orange color of the drink and the cone shape of its glass to the menu until he discerned he now owned an expensive Xandarian martini. It felt cold to his fingertips and possessed a stinging scent. He shrugged to himself, grasped the glass by its stem and gulped the contents. The unexpectedly sour flavor seared his throat. Its coldness amplified the tingling. His eyes widened and his face puckered as he guzzled his water to rid himself of the horrific sting.

"Groot!" Quill caught Groot clutching at his throat. He slid into the stool next to him and raised his voice over the background chatter, "You okay?"

Groot showed him the empty glass.

"Oh," Quill wrinkled his nose, "Yeah, that crap burns." He nodded to Groot's left, "And it looks like Rocket is almost done for the night."

Turning, Groot saw Rocket slumped against the bar. Four shot glasses glistened near his head. His glazed eyes were half-closed, unblinking with intoxication.

The Rainer ambassador spent the entire trip talking about cybernetic implants and surgical enhancements. Rocket stormed off the flight deck after five minutes and didn't reappear until the  _Milano_  landed. His movements were jerky and his eyes more watchful-- all signs of being triggered. When Rocket got triggered, he drank to numb it. Life around him was eggshells when he  _couldn't_  drink to numb it.

But this, today? Four shots of Asgardian whiskey in a row? That was a bit much and Groot hoped the bartender cut Rocket off.

Quill ordered two drinks before facing Groot again, "I booked us some hotel rooms with the scratch we made. It'll be nice to sleep in a decent bed while the  _Milano_  refuels. Hey, Rocket! You still conscious over there?"

Rocket grunted, "Yeah, what?"

"What's  _ARF?_ "

"Huh?"

"The letters on your finger. Never saw those before. They mean anything?"

"Oh, my ultraviolet tattoo. Yeah," Rocket wiggled his thumb, " _Always, really_  and  _forever_. Groot has it, too. It's on his shoulder. Show him, Groot."

Groot grinned into his water glass. He scrunched his right shoulder higher and fingered the tiny letters staining his bark like a brand. Nobody noticed the marking without him pointing it out. Rocket got inked right after the battle of Xandar. Groot wanted a mark to match, so Rocket used an engraving laser to burn it into Groot's bark while he was still growing. The scratches healed, leaving behind the permanent, blackened letters.

"Heh, matching tats," Quill wiped his thumb across his nose, "that's cute."

"Up yours," muttered Rocket.

Groot noticed Quill's music device poking out of his coat pocket. It had writing scratched on the side. He pointed to it. "I am Groot?"

"Oh, this? It was my mom's favorite Bible quote."

Groot bent forward to read it. His eyes stayed stuck on ' _Greater_ ', the first word. He squinted, trying to shift his eyeballs to the right, but the crowded bar required too much inward focus and his brain couldn't spare any more energy. His eyes wouldn't move across the text no matter how much he willed them to. He exhaled heavily in frustration, tapped his finger on the box and cocked his head curiously.

Quill glanced down at the words and looked up again, "It says 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.' It's from the book of John. You don't need to read it, Groot. You did it once."

More curious now, Groot pointed to the word  _love_. "I am  _Groot?_ "

"That's a  _really_  complicated question if you're asking what I think you're asking. There's a million answers and I sure don't know them all. Anyway, here's your room key. You might need it if Rocket passes out on you. You're right next door to Drax, by the way. I think he's already in bed for the night, so don't get too loud when you go by."

Quill finished up by stating the hotel room number and handing Groot a gold key card. He flashed his usual quick smirk and carried both drinks to the booth he shared with Gamora.

Groot fashioned a pocket of roots on his hip to stash the key card. He wrung a black cloth napkin between his hands. His dark eyes were drawn to a pair of young Xandarians-- their boxy clothing suggested males, but their makeup and long hair said otherwise-- exchanging a chaste kiss near the bar entrance. In the booth, Quill laid his hand on Gamora's forearm as he talked animatedly about something exciting. Gamora watched him with interest while sipping from her dark orange glass.

Suddenly, movement in the periphery. A wiry Xandarian headed straight towards the bar. Groot's eyes flicked past green hair swept back like a flame to focus briefly on the fancy attire. Shiny purple...and transparent!  _Everything_  showed.

Blinking, Groot averted his gaze from the obviously male Xandarian. It wasn't polite to look at people when their genitals were showing!

"I saw you scare those men off. Nice," the man said huskily. He plopped down on the stool Quill used moments ago and leaned closer. His clothes creaked against his skin when he said, "I'm Kaal...and I don't think I've seen anyone like you around here."

Groot studied the man-- Kaal-- through his peripheral vision, letting his mind slowly assemble each individual feature into a complete picture. The outrageous green hair and pale skin really stood out against the dim lighting of the bar. Gold gems glimmered in his small triple-pierced ears. His moist lips were thin and his large eyes almost matched the bar top's gray. He'd painted his fingernails black and applied matching eyeliner pencil to his eyelids.

Finally, Groot faced Kaal and fixed his gaze on his perfectly-groomed eyebrows. They, too, were green. Kaal flashed a quick, white smile that Groot couldn't help mirroring. The man seemed nice. Maybe he didn't know his clothes were transparent.

"So, big fella, what's your name?" he asked.

"I am Groot," Groot replied.

"Groot, huh?" Kaal shifted, his attire glistening, "Well, Groot, it's nice to meet you. So, are you looking for some love tonight?"

Brightness flashed through Groot's eyes. He nodded eagerly. Maybe Kaal had the answers Quill didn't.

"Come on, big guy, let's go outside where it's quieter. We'll talk there."

Again, Groot indicated the affirmative. He let Rocket know he would be right back and followed the sauntering Xandarian outdoors. They walked towards a fountain. Groot felt a little dismayed that it wasn't running at the moment. He waited the few seconds his brain required to recognize where he was in relation to the bar.

Kaal perched on the fountain's rim. Groot sat next to him, his eyes drawn to the sparkling water. The sparkles shone amber because of the street lamps situated in a circle around the fountain. He patted the rim, delighting in the soft scraping sensation.

All at once, a bit of sensory recognition came to him. He knew this fountain!

_"Don't drink fountain water, you idiot, that's disgusting!"_

_Hearing Rocket say that just made Groot want to do it more. Besides, thirst overpowered everything else. So, he resumed drinking as soon as Rocket got distracted_...

A soft, amused huff puffed between Groot's teeth. Then the present rematerialized and he remembered his location in time.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" Kaal remarked.

Groot shrugged his shoulders. He still held the cloth napkin he'd been fidgeting with, so he offered it to Kaal and gestured for him to cover his private area. " _I am_  Groot."

"Hm," Kaal eyed the napkin. His attire creaked and suddenly he sat astride Groot's lap. The napkin fluttered to the ground, forgotten. He grinned thinly, "I think I know what your problem is," his eyes crinkled at the corners and his knees pressed tighter against Groot's hips. A rather nice feeling, albeit awkward. "Is it a language issue?"

Groot dipped his head and grunted softly, indicating a yes. Why did Kaal keep  _touching_  him all over? The Xandarian's hands squeezed his shoulders, slid up and massaged the nape of his neck. Those strong hands, when combined with the weight in his lap and knees gripping his hips, met a lot of his current sensory needs. Groot's eyelids drooped. A low, contended hum rumbled in his throat. This wasn't so bad. Maybe his textured bark provided a satisfyingly stimulating surface for the Xandarian.

"You like that?" Kaal whispered, "Looks like it...you're making bedroom eyes at me. What if I press a little harder like this?"

Groot's wordless sigh expressed his growing serenity. That was the same spot Rocket patted to calm him down whenever frustration, conflicting needs or over-stimulation threw him into a wrist-chewing fit. He never had it done outside a fit before. The effects were utterly relaxing. His breathing slowed and deepened in response to the calming endorphin-like chemicals being released throughout his body.

Kaal cooed at him, "Ooh, did I just find the secret to making you happy?"

A silly grin tugged at the corners of Groot's mouth because this strange fellow was practically reading his mind! Then something poked his stomach. He looked down, saw what it was and immediately averted his eyes. Embarrassed, he decided to let Kaal know his unmentionables were on display.

"I-- am--  _Groot!_ "

"What's the matter?"

Groot pointed to the rising issue. Kaal glanced at his lap. He gave a lopsided smirk and winked one eye shut.

"Oh, that? There's nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart."

Confused, Groot focused on Kaal's left ear. Wait, did this man somehow understand him?

" _I_  am Groot?"

"Mm, keep talking. I like your voice."

"I am...Gr--"

Groot was cut off when Kaal's mouth abruptly touched his. He jerked back, baffled by the unexpected, unwanted kiss. Did he imagine it, or were Kaal's genitalia even firmer than before?

"Groot, relax. I'm not going to bite...much..." Kaal lightly placed a hand under Groot's chin and pulled him closer, "Now, what's this? Why won't you look at me? Come on, show me those big, brown eyes. Look at me."

Until that moment, Groot had done a fine job of avoiding direct eye contact. Now, he felt as though he had no choice but to comply. The gesture blazed a trail of memories across his mind. His heart hammered away inside his chest. Every neuron making up his nervous system screamed for escape, yet he couldn't blink, let alone move. The lithe Xandarian caressed Groot's cheek and it was the agony of acid pouring onto his nerve endings.

Groot tried to make a noise. The compliance training forced onto him long ago still had residual hooks in his brain. Disobeying meant agonizing electrical shocks and days of unquenched thirst. He remained silent, staring into the man's eyes and inwardly begging for this to end.

It didn't.

Kaal's gaze held a multitude of mysterious intentions. Groot felt exposed and vulnerable, like his insides were being sucked out and examined against his will.

Something about the situation didn't feel right. Wasn't this Xandarian supposed to teach him about love?

Kaal kept his hand under Groot's chin and smiled, blithely unaware of the silent torture he inflicted.

"That kiss was just a preview. It'll cost you fifty credits for a blowjob, a hundred for penetration of any sort, and I'll be your slave all night if you pay me five hundred." He ran his tongue over his pristine front teeth, "What do you say to that, Groot?"

Frowning, Groot forcibly broke eye contact by turning his head aside. All the terror vanished instantly, freeing his mind to once more consider his current situation. Answers were not forthcoming from this Xandarian. He'd wasted his time. How frustrating!

" **I** am Groot," he sighed, moving to stand.

"Whoa, hold on!" Kaal's knees tightened their grip, "Am I too expensive for you?"

"I am  ** _Groot,_** " muttered Groot. He felt deceived and no longer desired physical contact with this person.

"Groot," Kaal leaned in close again, his smile gone and his brow furrowed, "You don't know what a blowjob is, do you?"

Groot blinked-- no, he didn't. He knew it had a sexual connotation, but couldn't remember in what way.

Kaal's gray eyes scrutinized Groot's features a lot like a scientist studying a subject.

"Heh, Groot? I get the feeling you don't actually understand a single word I'm saying," he said.

Groot nodded because he  _did_  understand the words Kaal said. And why did this man want money for  _sexual intercourse?_

Then, it hit him. He squinted as the whole picture came together. Those transparent clothes weren't the unfortunate result of dressing in a too-dark room.

Kaal was a sex worker. He wanted to be noticed.

Groot pressed his palm against his forehead, annoyed that he didn't realize this sooner. He took a small comfort from his epiphany arriving  _before_  he paid the man and wound up in an even more uncomfortable situation.

"...I am... _Groot_."

"It's okay, I'm moving right now." Kaal finally extricated himself off Groot's lap. His voice went all sing-song, like one might speak to a fluffy mammalian pet, "I didn't know you were...I-I'm so sorry if that frightened you. Who's taking care of you? Do you have any ID on you?"

Groot took immediate offense at Kaal's tone. The visceral reaction twisted his stomach. His eyes hardened like marble. Hot energy shot along his limbs, screaming for release. He snatched Kaal up by the armpits. Since he had no desire to actually hurt the man, he gracefully flipped him backwards into the fountain. Kaal could only shriek as he struck the cold water butt-first. The fountain was deep enough for him to completely submerge and resurface. His once-pristine green hair sagged around his cheeks. The substance he'd lined his eyes with dribbled down his face like ichorous black tears.

"Hey!" Kaal spluttered, "No! Bad! Bad! You've been  _bad!_ "

The manner of his speech only increased Groot's anguish. Worse, he had absolutely no quick way to prove his sapience to this insolent fool!

" ** _I! AM! GROOT!_** "

He slapped both palms against his own chest to punctuate each ireful utterance. How dare that Xandarian insult his competency like that! How dare he!

His anger gave way to compassion upon seeing Kaal slip and fall while wading towards the fountain's edge. He looked pathetic, all his debonairness washed away.

Groot sighed before offering Kaal his hand. Kaal glared daggers. He didn't speak until he once more stood on solid ground, a wet, bedraggled mess.

"You're lucky you don't know any better," Kaal sneered.

A small, sad smile crossed Groot's face. There would be no convincing this person he understood him, so he played stupid on purpose. He scooped the napkin off the ground and offered it over.

"Stop it!" Kaal ripped the napkin off Groot's fingertips, "I don't care what you understand...you're just like my brother! Guess where he is? Locked up and  _safe_. You don't belong here, darling."

That  _might_  have stung if Groot wasn't so entertained by the theatrics. Time to fan the flames some more. He clapped his hands and bent forward, both brow ridges raised.

"...I am Groot?"

"Oh, for the love of--" Kaal threw his arms up, his eyes rolling dramatically skyward, "--why am I even  _talking_  to you? It's not like you know what I'm saying. Look, Groot, just go home. You understand that, right?  _Go home_."

With that, Kaal hurled the napkin down and stalked towards a white transport vehicle waiting on the main bridge leading deeper into the city. His clothes and high heeled boots went squish-squelch. He spoke to the transport driver, got in and the vehicle sped away.

A group of laughing people exited the bar as Groot approached it. The open doorway created a purplish rectangle against the dark building exterior. Multitudes of murmuring voices spilled out into the amber-hued night. Transitioning between environments cleared away any resentment Groot carried and none followed him inside. He stared at a melting ice cube on the dark blue carpet while he waited the few seconds it took his brain to reassemble the busy bar into understandable sights and sounds.

Quill and Gamora were still in the booth, both picking at plates of leafy, meaty food.

Groot scanned the length of the bar. Rocket wasn't perched in his stool anymore. There were two more empty shot glasses than before. The bartender swept them into a basin for washing. Well, if Rocket wasn't at the bar, there was one surefire place to check.

Again, Groot looked around the establishment until he spotted the universal restroom signs posted above a swinging double door. Reaching it meant passing the speakers blasting music onto the dance floor. Groot tightened his jaw, let thick twigs grow to cover his ears and rushed forward to push through the bathroom doors.

Rocket wobbled unsteadily on the edge of the metal urinal trough. He was too short to use it from the ground, so he'd climbed up onto its rim. Groot hurried forward, saving him from plunging face first into other people's waste material.

"Gah! Put me down, you motherf-- oh, hey Groot," Rocket's slurred words hardly counted as  _speech_. Groot only knew what he said by being fluent in drunken Rocket-ese.

Groot covered his eyes and held Rocket balanced while he attended his business.

"M'done," said Rocket. Within seconds of being placed on the floor, he vomited on it and himself. He wiped ineffectively at the mess, muttering, "Seriously? Seriously?"

"I  _am Groot_ ," Groot admonished him.

"Don't you tell me when I've had enough!" Rocket snatched the wet paper towel Groot handed him. Then he passed it back after four failed wipes, letting Groot mop the smelly emesis off his chin and clothes. He swayed on his feet, snarling, "I should auction the bitch ambassador off to the highest bidder. Cybernetics, tch!"

"I  **am**  Groot."

"I don't care if it's medical research!" Rocket jabbed a thumb at his own chest, his voice rising, "She could've learned it from the experiments done on me! She's a...a-- ah, forget it. I'm goin' to sleep."

This was the most drunk Rocket had ever gotten in public. He would've been humiliated if he knew how he looked and sounded right now.

Rocket laid down by his own vomit puddle, his form small and furry amidst the shiny tiles shaped like ugly blue puzzle pieces. If Groot wasn't so worried, he might have called the barf a design improvement.

Sighing, Groot threw away the soiled paper towel and scooped Rocket up in his arms. He didn't want to take him back through the noisy bar and risk having someone stop him to ask questions.

Groot's eyes darted to and fro, studying. The restroom had a utility exit beside the sinks. Upon giving it a push, he discovered it was locked from the outside. This obstacle proved unacceptable-- Groot absolutely refused to let Rocket's intoxication become a public spectacle.

"Groot? What're you doin'?" Rocket mumbled.

"I am Groot," answered Groot.

"Since when did doors stop you? Break it down, you idiot."

No way out except through. Groot smashed the door off its hinges and used it as a bridge to leave the bar behind.

Finding the hotel didn't take very long. Plant décor appeared to be its theme, judging by the vine designs on the off-white walls and carpet. Groot freed his room key and held it at eye level while he walked down the hallway. Once he found a room with symbols matching the key card, he swiped the card, stuck it in his mouth to hold it and shouldered the door open.

The hotel room was bigger than Groot expected. Four recessed lights in the ceiling and a blue pillar floor lamp came on when he stepped inside the doorway. His eyes roved over the off-white walls, the computer console by the window situated straight ahead, the bed in the far right corner and a desk just inside the door. He smiled at seeing the dark green vine pattern on the carpet because it meant less visual re-processing.

Rocket gurgled, signaling he was going to throw up again. Groot knocked into the floor lamp in his haste to find the bathroom. Its blue light went out when it toppled.

The bathroom ended up being right across from the bed. Groot hip-checked the door before setting Rocket down on the white tiled floor. Dismay settled in his stomach upon noticing the metal squat toilet which, at a glance, looked like a rectangular slot on the floor to the right of the doorway. Great, one of those suction types that made horrible hissing noises and self-cleaned with strong-smelling chemicals after each flush. It had a narrow U-shaped drain for liquid material to filter away. When someone flushed the toilet, the metal flap making up the bottom dropped down and the vacuum unit underneath sucked the solid waste away.

Groot lost part of his foot to one of these toilets a long time ago. He and Rocket had sneaked into a bar restroom to wash up after mugging someone for money. Groot saw the odd contraption and poked at it, trying to figure out how it worked. Somehow, he hit the flush mechanism while standing on the drain, and the vacuum ripped part of his foot clean off. Oh, it grew back just fine, but the experience left a permanent scar on his memory. Vacuum toilets were forever associated with pain. That made them  _scary_. The dark drain hole was absolutely terrifying to look at when combined with the hissing whine.

Rocket fell to his knees and vomited a smelly combination of bile and undigested liquor.

"Damn it," he groaned. The cussing continued through the ensuing dry heaves.

Groot braced himself upon seeing Rocket reach for the flush switch.

Clunk.

The drain flipped open, a yawning black hole of unknowns.

Groot clapped a hand over his eyes and stepped well away.

_Scr-e-e-e-vssshhhh!_

Just like the clinking ice cubes, the sound hurt. Smelling something fruity right after only added insult to injury. Groot would've fled the bathroom if he wasn't worried about Rocket falling nose first into the toilet. He bore his terror silently, his teeth gnashing away at the key card he never took out of his mouth.

The noise stopped. Nobody got ripped apart by the scary toilet. Groot uncovered his eyes and exhaled in relief.

"You're still freaked out by these things?" slurred Rocket, "Hey, what's in your mouth?"

Groot grunted and spat out the key card. It landed squarely on Rocket's forehead. He snickered.

"Thanks," Rocket took the card, looked at it and shoved it back into Groot's hand. He held his midsection, grumbling, "Ow, my stomach... I need a shower. I smell like puke. Where's the shower? I'm too drunk to find it. Go find it, Groot."

He started peeling his vomit-stained clothes off without waiting for a response. Groot turned away, searching for anything resembling a shower unit. Being so used to dumpy rooms with barely-working facilities meant he wasn't exactly sure where the shower was. His eyes finally zeroed in on a grate-style drain on the floor in the far corner. He blinked, shifting his gaze upward until he saw the round spigot in the ceiling.

Naturally, Groot had to go stand right underneath it and stare up at the spiral of holes. The controls were a touch screen that talked as well as display numbers. He adjusted it to the temperature he knew Rocket liked and turned the shower on. Hot water cascaded from the spiraling spigot. Not in a hard, stinging spray like he expected. This felt more akin to steamy rain. Even better, it ran so quietly. No hissing, thumping or banging pipes.

"I am Groot!" his voice boomed across the tiled bathroom. He grinned, holding his hands under the spray.

Rocket staggered forward, leaving his clothes in a pile where they fell. "Yeah, it's nice. Now quit hoggin' the water."

Groot noticed a groove in the wall behind the shelf of soap and complimentary shampoos. An adjustable shelf! Usually, he had to hand things to Rocket. He pushed it down within Rocket's reach before stepping aside. Better he move away before he got tempted to play with the spiraling spigot some more. Besides, the water bouncing off Rocket provided almost the same level of stimulation.

Listening to the shower spray reminded Groot of the fountain. Remembering the fountain brought Kaal into the forefront of his mind. Irritated by the memory, he rocked back and forth where he sat to channel the frustrated energy away.

" _I_  am Groot?" he asked Rocket.

"Holy sh-- what?" Shampoo splattered and Rocket coughed. "I thought you knew! You really don't know?"

"I am Groot."

"It's slang for sucking someone's dick. Why?"

Crossing his arms, still embarrassed, Groot turned his head sideways and mumbled, "I  _am_...Groot."

Rocket didn't laugh. Groot felt grateful for that. Then he realized Rocket's belly pain was the reason behind the lack of derisive amusement.

"Good thing he didn't pick your credits off you," Rocket's voice came in spurts as he scrubbed his fur, "Augh, m'dizzy."

A soft plop punctuated Rocket's slurred speech. He'd fallen straight down on his rear next to the drain. Hot water poured onto his head, making his fur sag like tree branches during a storm.

Maybe Rocket never fully left the lab after all. It always followed him, a dark shadow lurking in the crevices of his memory. He remembered things in a different way than Groot did-- he didn't need to experience objects with all five senses or assemble peoples' individual features like puzzles to recall them correctly later.

Groot only felt triggered when someone's behavior or words matched exactly to the laboratory technicians who mistreated him. Contact with prisons or laboratory-related  _things_ rarely set him off.

Rocket, by comparison, reacted to stimuli that seemed completely benign and unrelated. Sometimes, his responses had no visible cause at all. Groot tried to comfort him whenever the memories arose. Oftentimes, he got brushed away. It never stopped him from trying.

Something seemed seriously wrong with Rocket's intoxication this time. Drinking made him nauseated, impulsive and prone to starting fights. It never caused so much abdominal pain and confusion. Maybe his liver was finally lodging a complaint against the abuse.

Groot decided he wouldn't leave Rocket alone no matter how much he got yelled at for it. Friends took care of friends.

"Groot, wash my back," murmured Rocket. He was getting more intoxicated as the booze he hadn't vomited up worked through his bloodstream.

Groot reached for the colorful bottles-- Rocket only used soap to wash his hands and feet.

"I am Groot?"

"The green one's shampoo."

The shampoo smelled like a hot summer afternoon. Groot took in its scent, nibbled the side of the bottle, squeezed it, shook it and looked at it in his hands. The thick, green substance inside didn't taste the way it smelled. Ick! He dumped a blob of it onto Rocket's back and scrubbed it into his fur until he saw nothing but suds.

"Aw, yeah," Rocket's shoulders relaxed, "I forgot what a great back scratcher you are."

Groot chuckled and squeezed the bottle to get more shampoo. Only a little more came out, followed by something akin to flatulence. He tried not to crack up, but in doing so he emitted a most undignified, honking snort. The resonant tiles amplified the sound.

"Ugh! Groot, did you just fart?"

That did it. Groot laughed so hard his stomach hurt.

" **I**   _am Groot!_ " he guffawed.

"Right, and your ass is full of potpourri," Rocket gave his own amused snort and leaned over to let the water rinse his back. Groot scraped his fingers through Rocket's fur to make sure no shampoo got left behind.

Rocket seemed to forget he was in the shower and laid down on his stomach near the drain.

Groot frowned, prodded Rocket until his eyes opened again and spread his hands in a questioning manner.

"Dunno...six, maybe?" Rocket wiped at his nose, "Lost count at six. This ain't the bed, is it?"

"I am  _Groot_."

Groot shut off the shower. He found a silver water glass by the sink, so he filled it up, crouched on the wet floor and coaxed Rocket into a sitting position.

"Mmph, what?"

Groot insistently held the glass near his little black nose.

Finally, Rocket accepted the glass and drank everything in it. He tried stand up. When it became clear he couldn't do that, he crawled to the toilet to relieve himself without flushing. Not because he didn't want to; he forgot  _how_.

"Ugh, too wasted," he pawed at the wall while laying halfway across the U-shaped drain, his wandering hand getting ever-closer to setting off the flush mechanism.

Groot scrambled over and snatched Rocket up. Just in time to rescue him from having his tail eaten by the horrible, noisy vacuum drain. He made the mistake of staring wide-eyed into its gaping black abyss while it hissed. Terror won this round. Groot grabbed the white towel off the door rack and fled into the bedroom, Rocket's dripping form hanging listless in his arms.

Putting Rocket on the bed while still wet wasn't an option, so Groot opted to set his furry friend on the towel he'd spread out on the floor and cocoon him in it for warmth.

Footsteps in the hall indicated Quill and Gamora entering their room across the way. Drax's snoring buzzed through the walls.

Groot ignored sounds outside. He left Rocket long enough to retrieve and refill the water glass. He grabbed the white trash can by the sink too, just in case. Upon returning to the bedroom, he sat on the floor and cradled Rocket's towel-cocooned form in his lap to keep him warm.

Rocket never moved throughout being picked up, laid down and picked up again. His nose twitched at Groot touching it...that was a good sign, right?

"I am Groot?"

"Mmh."

Groot offered Rocket more water. His attempts only achieved a few sleepy sips, but some was better than none. He sighed, poking at the holographic entertainment set until it switched on. Thanks to the Krylorian who must have watched it last, he got an excellent lesson in what blowjobs looked like. Putting one's mouth on someone else's genitals didn't seem sanitary at all. He crinkled his brow and pushed the 'next' button until a nature documentary came up.

Groot leaned forward, enraptured in what became the tale of a large feline mammal giving birth to cubs and protecting them from harm. She spent hours nursing, grooming and tending them. When one died of illness despite her efforts, she appeared to mourn the loss so deeply it put a lump in Groot's throat.

"Mmh," Rocket sighed, rubbing his stomach as if it still hurt. He didn't move any more after that.

The documentary ran for an hour. In that time span, Rocket kept looking worse and worse. His nose felt completely dry. Abrupt noises didn't make him jump like usual. He gave no response when spoken to.

Groot sat Rocket on the foot of the bed just to see if he  _could_  sit up. And he did. Sort of.

"I  _am_  Groot?" Groot released a puff of gentle fragrance.

Rocket hung his head further without answering the inquiry. Drool dribbled off his bottom jaw. His eyes were glazed.

What if he drank so much it regressed him back into a regular woodland creature? What if he never came back from this?

When they met in that horrible prison laboratory, Rocket was a gaunt, gray fluff ball with huge eyes and a twitchy nose. Groot fed him leaves grown off his own fingertips so he wouldn't starve and rubbed his front paws whenever he seemed scared. Rocket started coming to him when he got hungry. He had unique ways of communicating that slowly transformed into words as the experiments changed him.

With that memory in mind, Groot placed his index fingers in Rocket's hands and rubbed circles on his palms. His feelings of friendship towards him wouldn't change if he did become an ordinary raccoon again.

Rocket's eyes bulged. He gurgled and projectile vomited straight-up bile. Groot barely dodged the first wave and caught the second one in the trash can. He watched Rocket lay down on his side, one hand holding his stomach.

"I am Groot?"

Nothing. Not even a blink.

"I am Groot!" Groot shook Rocket. Gently at first, then harder.

No response.

Terror set in. He bolted across the hall and pounded Quill's hotel room door.

"Coming! Hold on! Hey, I said I'm--" Quill, shirtless, flung his door open, "Groot? What's wrong?"

"I  _am **Groot!**_ " Groot gestured to his open hotel door, where Rocket could be seen slumped across the foot of the bed.

"Whoa. Gamora! I'll be right back!"

"What is it?"

"I dunno, I'm checking."

Groot shook his head. He flicked his fingers near his eyes, not even caring who saw; he needed to think. Making everything flicker helped slow his whirling mind down. Then he remembered he  _had_  fingers in the first place and held up six.

" _I_... am Groot."

Quill's forehead wrinkled. "Six...six what? Drinks?"

Groot grunted the affirmative.

"How much does he weigh? Wait! Never mind, I still don't know all your 'I am Groot's' yet. C'mon."

Fear tunneled through Groot's chest and settled in the pit of his stomach. Grayness threatened to consume his whole awareness. He squinted and chewed through a thick, leafy vine on the back of his hand. Tingling, burning energy formed on every nerve ending. Sensations and emotions blurred together, ramping his fear up more. This couldn't happen now! Rocket needed him!

Now Quill was kneeling in front of Rocket. Groot saw his ringed tail shift. Then Quill returned, his mouth tense.

"He's  _really_  drunk."

Drax opened his door so suddenly that Groot jumped. "Who is drunk?"

"Rocket is," said Quill, his voice rising and falling in pitch as he passed through the hall. He came back wearing a loose gray shirt with Gamora following close behind in a thin purple robe.

A low, scared groan escaped Groot's throat. The frenzied movements of the others took his attention off controlling the grayness. He only had time to step back into his room before his knees collapsed under the strain. Numb, hurting and lost, he jerked part of his body-- he wasn't sure which one-- backwards into the desk behind him. He did it again, a final effort to contain the already uncontainable explosion.

"Uh oh, uh oh! Groot! Hey--"

"Quill, tend to Rocket. I will restrain Groot."

"Thanks, Drax. Gamora?"

"Here. You may need another towel."

Their voices hurt! Groot's left arm flew up almost on its own and he latched his teeth onto his wrist with a resounding crunch. He shrieked wordlessly to find himself in the confusing numbness. It didn't help. Reflex sent a network of roots out to grasp the legs of the desk behind him. He bellowed again, angry at his own behavior. Anger pushed the grayness further through his nerves. Everything he heard crackled like microphone feedback. He tightened his jaws around his own wrist and hurled himself against the desk again. Self-created pain shut out the not-self-created pain. But all the pain merged like water drops running into each other on a window pane until he no longer knew what to do, so he kept thrashing and hoped to find himself in the void.

Hints of red and gray. A person kneeling nearby.

"You are harming yourself," Drax spoke softly, his voice almost disembodied in Groot's awareness, "Let me take your hand away from your mouth."

Groot pounded on the floor. Everything felt too big, too loud, too scary! Scarier than the toilet vacuum. Scarier than a thousand laboratory technicians!

"...still breathing..." Quill's hushed voice registered.

"Yes, but it is shallow and fast," Gamora answered in an equally quiet tone. Rocket hadn't moved an inch since he twitched his tail.

The roots Groot extended pushed the hotel door shut. He wanted to stop the grayness twisting his nerve endings. His brown eyes fixed desperately on Drax's muscular right shoulder. They followed it to his hand, which held his red chew tube. His brain registered its meaning. He let Drax gently free his wrist from his jaws. Once his teeth had nothing to clamp onto, he went for his other wrist. Not his choice-- it happened as automatically as breathing.

Drax somehow pushed the chew tube into Groot's mouth and caught his right arm at almost the same time. He twisted himself and Groot's arms behind his back, holding both of his wrists so his fingertips and thumbs applied deep pressure on the heels and backs of his hands. Just as he'd been taught by Rocket.

Pressure made  _sense_.

Groot ground his teeth against the chew tube. The rubbery material resisted his jaws, so it required a distracting amount of effort to keep it squished flat. Rage kept welling up inside, knotting his stomach and limbs. Jerking violently sideways stopped him from exploding apart like a bomb, but in doing so he nearly flung Drax clean off. Tension clutched his throat. He stopped suppressing his voice. An agitated growl rumbled in his chest. Growling felt good. Growling gave the rage somewhere safe to go. He threw his neck backwards, smacking his head into Drax's forehead. The hands holding his wrists slipped off. Startled, he dropped his chew tube.

Gray closed over him again like a fog. A frightening, numb fog that took his body parts away. No, danger, scary, not safe!

Groot clamped his teeth on his sore left wrist. Off-white showed through where he'd chewed his way to the cambium tissue. He punched his legs to locate them in the haze.

"Oh, shit! Gamora, stay with Rocket!"

Quill's bare feet thumped across the hotel room carpet. The sudden movement hurt. Groot's roots rapidly multiplied to cover the entire wall behind him.

Drax said, "I will pin him. You place the tubing in his mouth again."

"Okay," Quill replied.

Groot saw his chew tube being moved. No! That made everything safe!

Reality flipped ninety degrees and he found himself face-down on the soft carpet. Two strong hands expertly recaptured his wrists. The abrupt change in position pulled his roots taut. That tension, plus being in contact with the floor and having Drax's weight on his back, told him where his body parts were inside the grayness.

"Here..."

Groot heard Quill's voice right before the chew tube bumped his clenched teeth. His jaw snapped it up like a steel trap and he swore he wouldn't let go until everything made sense again. He closed his eyes to shut out unnecessary sensory input. The gray coursing across his nerves began to abate. He gnawed the rubbery red tube. His head throbbed and all he could do was harmlessly thump it against the carpet.

Movement in the periphery. Groot felt Quill's hand tap an inverted triangular pattern on the back of his neck. Each impact helped overpower the terror thrumming across his nerves and guided him towards serenity. His breathing slowed. He ceased growling. This felt good.

"He's calming down now," whispered Quill, "You're doing great, Groot. Hang in there."

Rocket gurgled in the background. The smell of bile followed. Gamora gasped, "Peter!"

"Assist her. I will take over here," Drax said quickly. He transferred Groot's wrists to one hand and took over the neck tapping as Quill's touch withdrew.

At last, after what seemed like an eternity, Groot's dazzled senses congealed like an agitated pond regaining its stillness. Sound distortions receded. Proprioception came back in gradual steps until he sensed his own body parts again.

Exhausted, he spat out the chew tube and wiggled his sore jaw. The roots he attached to the wall and desk behind him retracted.

"I am Groot," he croaked. The first thing he did upon sitting up was gesture at Drax's face.

Drax rubbed the bruise and waved him off. "No need to worry. You cannot control your actions in that state."

"How's Groot?" asked Quill.

"Groot has recovered. And Rocket?"

"Rocket needs medical attention," Gamora answered, "He consumed far too much alcohol and didn't wake up when he vomited."

Quill and Gamora got dressed properly at some point. Groot blinked at them. He glanced past Drax's left ear, then at the bed where Rocket lay on the vomit-stained towel. The little raccoon's shoulder twitched up and down when he breathed. Groot knew all of Rocket's sleep-quirks, and  _that_  wasn't normal.

Clutching the chew tube in his teeth again, Groot forced himself upright. Exhausted, his hot nerve endings barely free of the gray fog, he staggered across the room to kneel at Rocket's side.

"I  **am**  Groot," he murmured, nudging him. The lack of a response was utterly distressing. He whined softly and gave Rocket's tail a gentle tug. Rocket  _hated_  people pulling his tail. Doing so usually induced lots of swearing...but this time, nothing. Not even a shift in breathing.

"Quill is going to call for help," Gamora said gently. She finished buckling her tight-fitting black top into place, "You did the right thing by alerting us, Groot."

Behind her, Quill activated the communications array and hailed emergency services. He forced his face to look neutral when he noticed Groot's frightened expression.

"Hey, Groot? Listen...the medics are going to come in and surround him. Either they'll give him a shot to reverse the alcohol, or they'll have to take him to the hospital. It might get loud and chaotic, and I know you don't like high pitched noises. The siren might be nasty for you. Can you handle that?"

Groot's lips tightened into a line as he draped the red chew tube over the back of his neck and stuck both ends into his mouth. A loop of vine ensured it wouldn't fall off without his knowledge. He wanted it close in case his urge to bite himself returned and he didn't have the energy to care what anyone else thought. His only concern was Rocket.

" _I_  am Groot," he nodded without meeting Quill's worried gaze.

Rocket never moved except to breathe. Groot touched the towel underneath him. It wasn't wet-- Rocket usually slept naked in the shower or bath if he retired without sobering up because he slept right through voiding his bladder. Life got messy when Rocket let himself get blind, stinking drunk. If he didn't puke, he peed. Luckily, Groot wasn't grossed out by either. He only considered them 'icky' after Rocket said they were.

Yet here, despite consuming water before losing consciousness, Rocket hadn't produced anything since after his shower. He wasn't drooling anymore. Between the vomiting and alcohol, how much fluid did he lose?

Another faint whine left Groot's throat. He didn't know how long it took dehydration to kill someone Rocket's size. What if it happened in mere hours? Did he feel thirst in his unconsciousness? Did it  _hurt?_

Groot rubbed the back of Rocket's head to let him know he hadn't left his side. Rocket kept breathing shallow and fast, but weird breathing was better than no breathing.

Drax opened the window. Cool petrichor wafted in along with the sound of pattering. The rain didn't offer Groot any comfort, but he was the first to hear the sirens in the distance.

" **I**   _am Groot_ ," he murmured, letting Rocket know help would arrive soon.

Five minutes later, an aircraft engine rumbled and purple lights flashed outside. Drax announced the emergency personnel's arrival. Quill wasn't kidding about things getting chaotic. Gamora opened the hotel room door. Several Xandarians dressed in blue and yellow striped uniforms burst in. Being the tallest person there meant Groot got to watch everything they did to Rocket.

One rolled him into his back. Another shined a small light into his eyes, rubbed his chest, listened to his heartbeat and attached a tiny, glowing white probe to his chest. Another tried to separate the fur on his wrist to visualize his blood vessels. Someone else strapped what looked like a plastic muzzle to his face. Clear tubing protruded off the tip of the muzzle and attached to a metal tank. The scientist used to put a similar device on Rocket whenever his tongue turned blue after surgical procedures. He always recovered quickly.

But these people weren't scientists. Their techno babble was far different than in the Halfworld prison laboratory.

Groot heard a lot of words he didn't recognize. Among them, oxygen saturation, arrhythmia and diaphoresis. The only one he knew for sure was dehydration, a feeling far too familiar.

"Damn, his veins keep rolling. I can't get this line in. We have to transfer," said the shortest medic.

"Get the transport gurney," another whispered into a wrist-mounted communication device.

Quill adjusted his leather jacket when the aforementioned item arrived. "Looks like we're moving. Groot?"

Groot was already following the medics into the lobby. Rocket looked absolutely  _tiny_  on the gurney. Cold rain poured on the sidewalk outside, its wet touch not at all pleasant. The bright blue emergency flight vehicle almost stabbed Groot's eyeballs. What a hideous color. Fortunately, the inside was a subdued gray with walls covered in tiny metal cabinets. Every cabinet door had a window that revealed its contents.

Groot sat on the floor, trying to be inconspicuous despite his large size. He gnawed his chew tube nervously as the medics banged doors shut and monitored Rocket.

"Hey, I'll ride with Groot. You know where the hospital is, right?" Quill poked his head out a side window.

"We'll meet you there," Gamora answered.

"Come on," Drax cut in, "We are wasting time."

The double doors on the vehicle whirred shut. Rain thumped against its metal hull-- a sound Groot found soothing until the engines screeched online. He was grateful the siren didn't come on with the purple lights. The siren would've been too much to handle.

Everyone braced themselves for liftoff. It wasn't as smooth as the  _Milano_.

Quill uncurled enough to reach up, tug something down and look at it.

"Hey, what's this?"

"That's for intubated patients who can't talk," said the short medic. Female, Groot decided, because her voice sounded too high to be male.

Groot stayed focused on Rocket's little black nose, which remained just visible inside the foggy oxygen muzzle. He didn't notice Quill handing him the laminated card until he looked down and saw it in his hands. His eyes easily tracked downward along the vertical columns of text. The color-coded words were arranged in categories according to their meaning. Each column had sets of ten words with breaks in between. Groot read the entire card in under two minutes before looking askance at Quill. What did he want with this?

"Heh, I uh...I'm not Rocket. This'll help you talk to me," Quill looked at the medics, "Can we keep this?"

"Sure," the male medic answered. He shined his light into Rocket's eyes again, saying, "Pupils are still sluggish."

Groot worriedly scanned the card. He read by attaching meaning to the words rather than imagining a voice pronouncing each one silently. This wasn't ideal, but he could express the basics where necessary. Better than nothing.

"I am Groot?" he rumbled, pointing to the word  _die_.

Quill followed Groot's finger across the card. He shook his head, "I don't know. I hope not."

" _I_   **am**   _Groot_ ," Groot scanned the card again before indicating the words  _wake, scared_  and  _lab_.

Both of Quill's eyebrows went up and his eyes widened. "Oh, shit, I never thought of that. I'm such a dick. Hey, medic? What's your name?"

The short Xandarian female looked up from tending to Rocket, "My name is Edara Veem." She gestured at the tallest Xandarian sitting beside her, "The tall fellow is Thooman Tam."

"Nice to meet'cha," Quill gestured to himself, "I'm Peter Quill, people call me Star-Lord. " Then he indicated Groot, "Giving Tree over here is Groot. You might want to let him keep that card. Talking ain't his strong suit. Rocket usually translates all his 'I am Groot's' for us."

"Oh, that's all right. He can keep it. Hello, Groot."

"I am  _Groot_ ," Groot managed to acknowledge them. Just enough of a nod for politeness-- he couldn't spare anything else at the moment.

Thooman suddenly perked up, his rough baritone voice filling the vehicle, "You're  _them!_  The people who fought for Xandar!"

"Uhh, yeah," Quill smiled a tad nervously. "No autographs, please, not till Rocket's better. Listen, Rocket spent a lot of time getting poked as a lab subject. He might freak out and not cooperate when he wakes up. It's probably a good idea if Groot stays with him."

"I'm noting it down in his chart," Edara said. She switched on her digital chart and wrote  _PTSD-- lab. Allow friend-Groot w/ pt_.

Groot studied both Xandarians through the corner of his eye to memorize their features for later.

Edara had a heart-shaped face, short brown hair clipped back in a bun and bright blue eyes. Her delicate little hands seemed very nimble when she smoothed the blanket keeping Rocket warm.

Thooman's curly black hair formed wisps on his forehead and the nape of his neck. His intense dark brown eyes almost matched his skin tone, and a large skin mole stuck out on the left side of his rectangular jaw. Flat fingernails painted white tipped his squared-off fingertips.

"Do you know what he drank?" asked Edara.

"Six of...wait! I think I still have a menu. Groot?" Quill unfolded something he pulled from his jacket pocket. An exact copy of the menu Groot saw on the bar top.

Groot immediately pointed to the shot glass of yellow fluid.

"Asgardian whiskey," Thooman whistled, "I'm surprised he's still breathing."

"Rocket isn't your everyday alien," Quill replied.

Groot twisted the ends of his chew tube around each other. Thooman's remark needled into his already growing fear of losing Rocket.

The emergency vehicle dipped and shed altitude. Lights flicked on after the bump of landing. Groot flinched at the engines squeaking off. Then the back doors burst open, bright lights flooded in and the gurney carrying Rocket slid out. He kept Edara's silver shoes and Quill's dark red leather jacket locked in his peripheral vision as he followed them across the shiny white floor. Two left turns, a right, a silver doorway threshold and a room smelling like various unidentifiable chemicals.

A Xandarian family embraced outside another darkened room across the way-- all of them crying. They had lost a child, judging by what the doctor speaking to them said. The idea of Rocket sharing the same fate clenched Groot's innards.

The hectic motion of the emergency department continued. Groot found himself eternally grateful that Quill warned him about the chaos. He still struggled to follow the swift movement happening around Rocket while fighting the gray feeling prickling at his nerve endings. Everyone was talking at once and their words all jumbled together like birds twittering.

Someone shaved a patch of fur off Rocket's wrist, wiped the exposed skin with something green and easily inserted a tiny needle into the equally tiny vein.

Motion on the left. Groot's eyes widened when he saw someone about to stick a tube in Rocket's private area. Rocket always said touching peoples' genitals without their permission was wrong! He almost lunged at the medic.

"I am  ** _Groot!_** "

"Groot! Hey, easy, that's a catheter. They're not hurting him. They have to put that there," Quill clutched Groot's shoulders, holding him back, "It's going to catch his pee, that's all."

The tube went in without any trauma, and the person inserting it pressed gently on Rocket's lower abdomen.

"No urine in his bladder. Belly is rigid. All right, let's throw the whole blood panel at this little guy."

Another medic poked the tip of Rocket's left index finger with a needle and collected the crimson blood droplets on several transparent slides. Somebody else brushed on a liquid bandage that smelled like fruity vacuum toilet cleaning chemicals.

Growling, Groot wrenched himself free of Quill's grasp and loomed in the corner, his lower jaw jutting forward. His normally gentle eyes were sharp as blades, warning everyone that he was there to protect Rocket from harm. He watched a gray-haired Xandarian female gently lift Rocket off the transport pad and lay him down on the wheeled hospital bed. Glimmering maroon hoops decorated her earlobes, the color perfectly matching her lipstick. Her yellowish eyes contained only kindness and her long-fingered hands held Rocket securely. She was very gentle, even pausing to ensure none of the tubes tangled. After the transfer, she slipped the oxygen muzzle off his snout and replaced it with a tiny nasal cannula which she taped loosely to his furry cheeks.

"Liver enzymes are high," said the plucky Xandarian who took Rocket's blood, "Kidneys are down." Then he went into a bunch of unfamiliar terminology.

The head medic moved away from the others. She was a tall, rail-thin woman whose pale skin seemed paler next to the light blue nursing attire she wore. Four silver pips were pinned to her uniform's U-shaped neckline. Long fingers showing much practice in their work wrapped around the edge of the transparent handheld chart containing Rocket's information. Everything about her appearance screamed  _professional, experienced and caring_.

"We must stabilize him. Begin with an injection of thiamine. Follow it with five percent dextrose in normal saline with carbs on the side."

"The big one acts like your granddaughter," a short male medic muttered to the female.

"He's a Flora Colossus. Their neurology is unique, and so is my granddaughter's," she pinned the shorter Xandarian with a look, "Do not assume incompetence, Phayne."

Phayne, the one with spiky black hair, a triangular jaw and purple eyes, stiffened. "Medic Imali, I never meant any disre--"

The female, Imali, seemed to inflate, "Enough. Go attend to the Guna in room six. He's vomiting again."

Groot avoided Imali's gaze when she approached. Instead, he stared at the two clear bags hanging off a hook above Rocket's bed.

"I'm afraid we can't give him any Antihol. Antihol only reverses moderate intoxication. Rocket's blood levels are too high and his condition is too precarious for us to administer it safely."

Quill slapped his palm against his forehead and shook his head. "Damn it, Rocket."

Groot pointed to  _why_  on the word card. "I  _am Groot?_ "

Imali replied, "Antihol binds to alcohol in the bloodstream and stops it from attaching to the receptors the brain. This forces the liver to filter it faster. The liver sends the filtered blood to the kidneys where the bound chemicals are excreted in the urine. Binding large amounts of alcohol risks damaging both organ systems. His liver and kidneys are already at their maximum and can't handle any more trauma. It's safer to help his body take care of the alcohol at its own pace.

"Also, Rocket's condition is complicated by something known as alcoholic ketoacidosis. He consumed so much alcohol that his metabolism has been chemically disrupted."

Imali turned her chart over and used a stylus to draw molecule diagrams while she spoke, "Sugar is the body's main source of fuel. When there isn't enough sugar, the body uses fat as energy. Fat produces ketones, which are acidic in nature. Rocket has too many ketones in his bloodstream because his body is so out of balance. His blood is too acidic, which can damage his organs. He needs our help to restore homeostasis."

Groot's eyes roved over the diagrams while his ears took in every word Imali spoke. The words he didn't understand were filled in by the images. He took a moment to process it all. Then, like in the emergency vehicle, he grunted and gestured to  _die_  on the communication card.

" _I_  am Groot?"

"No," Imali told him gently, "No, he won't. We're already working on restoring balance within his blood and organs. His heartbeat and respirations are being closely monitored. Everything has an alarm, so we'll be ready to help within seconds if something goes wrong."

Her air of calm reassurance became contagious. Groot felt much more at ease. The nurses and doctors wouldn't let anything bad happen to Rocket. All the emergency and fear came down to a matter of waiting.

"I'm gonna go see if Drax and Gamora are here yet," Quill tapped Groot's shoulder, "I'll come find you later, okay?"

"I am Groot."

Quill squirmed by and turned left upon exiting the open double doors.

Groot returned his attention to Imali while she led him to the bed where Rocket lay curled up on his left side. She lowered the IV bags to let him examine them his own, natural way. He was allowed to check everything as long as he needed. The only things he didn't bite were the catheter tube and bag, because pee wasn't supposed to go near peoples' mouths, ever. She explained everything he touched as he explored. He listened to her tell him about the heart rate, breathing and blood pressure monitor. By the time she finished, Groot realized all the tubes, monitors and needles no longer seemed so foreign and frightening. He greatly appreciated Imali letting him study his surroundings until he understood them.

Then she gave him a step-by-step description of what was going to happen when Rocket got transported upstairs.

"...and I'll make sure everyone knows you use a communication card," Imali finished. She kept her tone professional, yet gentle without sounding patronizing, "Do you have any questions before I go?"

Groot smiled brightly at her and shook his head no. She'd done a fine job at easing his fears. So fine, in fact, that he sprouted a purple flower from his wrist and gave it to her as a show of gratitude. "I  _am_  Groot."

Imali's face lit up at the gift. Not a put-on-- she was genuinely delighted. "Oh! Thank you, that's so kind of you!" She tucked it into a pocket on her light blue nursing uniform. Then she showed him a thick card much like the hotel key card. On it, a black button next to the image of a young Krylorian female with braided dark red hair.

"This is Veila, and she's going to be Rocket's nurse when he goes upstairs. You can contact her by pressing the button, but wait until he's upstairs or things may get a little confusing."

Nodding, Groot rooted the card to the back of his hand where it was readily available. He waved to Imali before she departed into the noise of the emergency department.

Orderlies wearing white appeared and surrounded the bed. Their leader acknowledged Groot with a brief nod.

"We're heading upstairs," said the leader-- the pitch of the voice didn't let him guess the gender.

Everyone moved as a single unit. Groot was glad he brought his chew tube, he ended up gnawing it while crossing the noisy, bright corridor. He had to duck down in the cramped elevator.

After exiting the elevator, the orderlies guided the bed through a door directly across the hallway.

Rocket's final destination placed him near the window of a pale yellow room with a brown tiled floor and brocaded gold curtains. The monitor above his bed switched on once someone programmed it to read the coded white cuff on the same wrist as the IV needle. Groot knew exactly what the orderlies did when they did it because Imali had kindly explained every procedure involved in transferring a patient. Knowing what to expect saved him from trying to piece all the activity together while shifting environments.

The orderlies finished adjusting Rocket's bed and quietly filed out. Veila knocked on the doorframe just a scant minute later.

"You must be Groot," she said, her voice soft and low-pitched, "Sorry if I'm a little giddy here. I just read a huge write-up about your species. I hope all this chaos isn't too scary for you."

Blinking, Groot hung his head. It  _was_  terrifying before...but Imali helped it feel less so.

The young nurse tried to catch his gaze. Then she appeared to remember why he avoided her eyes and stopped. She asked, "Is it okay if I take Rocket's vitals?"

Groot gestured at the bed. One end of the chew tube was still firmly stuck in the corner of his mouth. He didn't care. Nobody here had any intention to imprison him.

Veila approached the bedside, her footsteps quiet on the tiled floor. She wore a dark purple uniform rather than light blue. The neckline formed a V instead of a U. White gloves covered her small hands. She placed two receivers in her ears and touched a square microphone to Rocket's chest, his upturned side and both sides of his upper back.

"Lungs are clear, that's good. Do you want to hear his heartbeat?"

Groot perked up and nodded eagerly. She gave him the earpiece from her left ear. Then she placed the square microphone against Rocket's chest.

And Groot's dark eyes glistened as he listened to his best friend's  _life_. Rocket's heartbeat pick-pocked rapidly between the whooshes of breathing. Groot knew what hearts were, how they functioned and that people died if their heart stopped, but in all his lifetime he'd never heard one beat before.

Hearing Rocket from the inside was the closest Groot had ever been to his dearest friend.

Did  _love_  sound like that?

He looked over at Veila and pointed to his own chest. She didn't hesitate in obliging him. His heartbeat thump-thudded much slower, but it immediately sped up because he got a little excited by the sound of it. Wide-eyed, he beamed at the sweet young nurse.

" _I am_  Groot," he offered her earpiece back. Upon remembering the word card, he pointed at  _thank_  and grew her a white flower from his palm.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed th-- oh, thanks! My gosh, you're such a sweetie."

Veila set the stethoscope pieces in a pouch clipped to her hip and accepted the flower. Her eyes gleamed as she smelled the fragrant blossom before slipping it behind her ear.

"I'm going to finish examining Rocket. Don't worry, this won't bother him."

She checked the needle taped to Rocket's wrist next, her touch nothing but gentle around his cybernetic implants. Rather than lament his appearance with pity, she said, "Mm, he's cute."

Had Rocket been conscious, he would have cussed her out. Groot turned away, briefly, to stifle a rude snicker.

Veila got a papery white pad from the cabinet behind Rocket's bed, folded it in half and tucked it under the side of his snout.

"It's just in case he vomits. Who wants to lay on a pillow that's all smelly, right? Use the card if he starts to vomit and I'll come right in to-- oops!"

Rocket started to do just that while Veila spoke. There weren't any gagging noises. Rocket's midsection contracted and the emesis simply oozed onto the pad. Veila retrieved a curved tube, affixed it onto a longer tube connected to a cylindrical device and turned it on. Groot listened to the gurgles while he watched her suction the fluids as they emerged.

"There, it's okay, it's okay."

"I am  _Groot?_ " Groot pointed to  _pain_  on the word card.

"No, this doesn’t hurt."

The tube stopped burbling. Veila shut off the suction device and disposed of the tip she'd inserted into Rocket's jaws. She changed the pad she put down earlier before settling his limbs in a more comfortable position.

"It's just a waiting game now," Veila told Groot. Kindness filled her voice, "Use my call card if you need anything. It's nice meeting you, Groot. I'll make sure your friends know which room you're in."

Groot nodded with a smile. She smiled back before slipping into the much quieter hall. Now free to roam, Groot examined all of the fixtures and switches on the walls. He found one that dimmed the overhead lights, so he lowered their brightness halfway. Rocket never liked it bright after a bender.

Lightning flashed, nearly startling Groot out of his bark. Thunder crashed and rain beat against the window. Lightning, something Flora Colossi feared out of pure instinct. Groot was okay with electrical storms as long as he wasn't outside during one. Still, the thunder twisted his stomach. He pulled both ends of his chew tube towards his mouth and absently nibbled them.

His eyes were drawn to the white spikes of Rocket's heartbeat drifting across the monitor screen. The numbers beside it stayed in the area of one hundred and seventy beats per minute, though occasionally it jumped to one-seventy-three or dropped to one-sixty-six. A green line, far more gradual in its rising and falling, measured each breath, while a matching green number kept track. That number hovered pretty steadily around sixteen breaths a minute. The blue digit depicting his oxygen saturation-- the amount of oxygen his blood carried-- never dropped below ninety-six percent. Groot couldn't remember what Imali said about the blood pressure numbers, but he did recall her saying they would flash red if it went too high or low. So far, those numbers stayed yellow.

"I know how helpless you must feel right now," said Gamora from the door. Her approach had been too quiet for Groot to hear.

Turning, Groot acknowledged her and immediately hung his head. Now that the worst of the crisis was actually over, all the emotion surfaced at once like heat climbing up his throat. He dropped the word card on the bed.

"I am... _Gr-o-o-o-o-t_ ," he said, shuddering.

Gamora's hand rested lightly against his shoulder. Such a friendly touch opened the floodgates. All the fear, anger and sadness found an outlet and he didn't bother stemming the flow. He squinted, twisting the ends of his chew tube around each other with his hands. Sap tears turned his face into a streaky, shiny mess. The first sob exploded out of him as a quivering, low-pitched groan. He didn't care how it sounded. Letting the emotion  _out_  felt far better than keeping it  _in_.

Gamora stroked the fuzzy green moss on his shoulder. She took his hand when he let it fall to his side. Little did she realize she successfully spoke his wordless language. He clung to her strong green hand as though rooting himself in vibrant soil and let the rain of his tears fall freely.

More quiet footsteps. Two more presences slipped inside the room. Someone's hand touched his other shoulder. Another patted his back. Kind hands belonging to  _friends_.

"It's gonna be okay, Groot," Quill's reassuring voice cut over the rain outside, "Rocket's a tough guy."

"I second that statement," Drax added, "He will recover."

Groot clapped his hand over his face. The momentary lapse in his demeanor smoothed out. Having friends close helped. They remained around him until his shaken emotions regained equilibrium.

"We got you some water," Drax rustled something, "Will it help you feel better?"

He nodded, grunting. A dull ache pulsed in the back of his head. He wiped the sap tears all over his face and licked the bitter-tasting residue off his palms. His bark would reabsorb it in minutes.

The rustling noises stopped Quill struggled to unseal the lid of a travel water jug. Drax finally snatched it and twisted the lid off in a single motion. He shot the half-Terran a smirk.

"Weakling," he said without malice.

Groot accepted the huge jug, made certain of its contents...and downed the entire thing. Every single drop. He drank like he hadn't seen water in years. Then he set the empty container down and hiccupped.

"Um..." Quill started.

"Peter," Gamora cut him off, "let it be."

Drax peeked out the window. He rumbled, "We may have to wait all night."

"Perhaps," Gamora looked up at Groot, "If that is the case, you should rest."

Groot insistently shook his head no. Rocket could awaken at any time and Groot wanted his face to be the first face he saw.

"Gamora, it'll take the entire Nova Corps, Ronan and everybody living on Knowhere to get Groot to budge. It ain't worth the manpower. We'll wait as long as it takes. Right, Groot?"

"I  _am_  Groot," Groot answered with a frown and a nod.

Maybe love meant being present.

.o

Hours ticked by, each moment measured in faint beeps and hisses. The others slept sitting against the wall by the decontamination station in the corner. Groot only dozed for twenty minutes before his concerns drove him to alertness again, so he gave up on sleep.

Outside, rain dribbled down the window like tears as the sky went from black to dark slate, hinting at dawn's soggy approach.

Rocket's nose felt wet again and he no longer required external oxygen to keep his "sats" up. He finally passed fluid into the catheter bag. Blood tests showed his counts steadily returning to safe levels. He wasn't in immediate danger anymore.

The good news almost sent Groot sprinting up and down the hall with his hands flapping in the air. Since he knew that would get him kicked out on his rear, he settled for twisting his body through impossible contortions until the emotion ran its course.

Veila's shift ended. Groot traded her alert card for Glaraan's, a bald, tan and portly Xandarian male with bright bluish-purple eyes and a friendly tenor voice. He told Groot everything he was doing even though Groot knew the checking-vitals-and-changing-IV-bags procedure by heart.

"I  **am**  Groot?" Groot tapped  _wake_  and  _when_  on the word card.

"Pretty soon," Glaraan winked, "Watch."

He brushed his finger against Rocket's whiskers. They twitched! Hope nearly squeezed Groot's heart out of his chest.

"I am  ** _Groot!_** " he exclaimed.

"Shhh, don't wake up the ward. I'm happy for ya, pal. I know it's been a bad night," whispered Glaraan. He emptied the catheter bag, took a sample and dumped the rest out in the adjoining bathroom toilet. It wasn't a vacuum squatter. For that, Groot felt exceedingly grateful.

"Can I get'cha anything before I run off?"

Groot shook his head no. Glaraan scanned a note on Rocket's chart, patted Groot's shoulder and swung himself left to enter the room next door.

The Guna custodian slipped through to empty the biohazard box. He deposited everything in a white cylinder.

And Groot sank backwards in memory...

_His first recollection was a voice._

_"I dunno if you'll grow back again or not, but..." the voice wavered until it cracked, "...I've gotta try. I ain't giving up on you," and the voice stiffened into sobbing, "Don't leave me alone like this, Groot! I'll do anything, just...just..."_

_Groot's first drink as a sapling was his best friend's tears. He didn't yet know how to wake up and give comfort, so he listened in silence._

_Awakening came a short time later with a broad yawn and a satisfying stretch. He blinked, realizing he was in the Milano's cockpit. Rocket's previously orange clothing was blue now. It took Groot a moment of staring to assemble all of the raccoon's features into a recognizable person._

_He heard more voices. Drax, Quill and Gamora. Everyone survived-- his sacrifice wasn't in vain. He was surrounded by people with a bright new future, and he felt honored to grow into it among them._

_And everywhere Rocket went, he carried Groot's pot with him_...

...just like the custodian walking off with the canister.

Grayish light filtered through the rain-kissed window. Groot looked past Rocket's shoulder at Drax, Quill and Gamora. His brown eyes zeroed in on the word  _love_  scratched into Quill's walkman.

Sinking his mind into the meaning of that tiny, insignificant word seemed impossible, but he told himself to keep trying.

"Mmh."

Movement in the periphery. Rocket's arm slid out from under the gray blanket. He rubbed the crusty inner corners of his eyes before letting his hand flop onto the pillow by his nose.

Groot climbed onto the bed that really wasn't meant for someone as long as him and curled around Rocket, his body becoming like a nest. Rocket would freak out the moment he saw his IV lines and monitoring cuff. There was no getting around it, but Groot hoped to make his first few seconds of consciousness happy ones.

" ** _I_**  am  _Groot_ ," he crooned softly.

Rocket opened his eyes. Groot's were the first pair he saw looking back at him. Delighted, Groot scooted forward until their foreheads touched.

" _I_  am Groot?"

"Mmh, feel like crap," Rocket's speech slurred. His movements were floppy and imprecise. He grumbled, "Yeah, yeah, I'm awake, why're you crowding me?"

"I  _am_  Groot."

"So? I'm glad you wake up every day, too. Doesn't mean I get all up in your face about it."

Delight thrummed within Groot's chest because Rocket sounded like his usual, cynical self.

Then Rocket's sleepy eyes caught the glow of the cuff monitoring his vitals. He saw the IV needles taped into his wrist. His fur bristled, whiskers pulling close against his snout. The monitor above his bed sped up its beeping.

"Groot...where...?"

Groot covered Rocket's forearm, hiding the tubes and cuff. He sensed the rising panic and tried desperately to quell it. "I am  **Groot.** "

"W-why?" Rocket's ears flattened next, but his droopy eyes and slurred speech took all the venom out of his threatening expression, "You idiot! Why'd you let--"

"I'm the one who called the emergency line," Quill stretched and leaned his elbows on the side of the bed. Relief shone clear in his voice, "Groot couldn't wake you up. He came to us for help."

"What the f-- I was drunk!"

"You nearly died," Gamora added, also getting to her feet. "It's good to see you awake, Rocket. We were worried."

Drax kept on snoring softly, insensate to the noise in the room.

Rocket reached for the tape on his wrist, but lacked the coordination to unhook it. "Groot, get this shit off me. I'm leaving."

Normally, Groot did what Rocket said. That time, he set his jaw like flint.

"I am Groot."

"Whatddya mean, 'I can't?' Groot!"

" _I am **Groot.**_ "

"So what? I puked, I passed out...I'm awake now. I'm fine."

Groot pushed Rocket to lay down when he tried to get off the bed. Bending down, he furrowed his brow and faked eye-contact by looking at a point between Rocket's eyes.

"Augh, Groot, don't...c'mon, not the eyes."

Oh yes, Groot used his soft, soulful brown eyes to their fullest extent. For added effect, he pouted his bottom lip forward and flashed the saddest, most pleading little smile he could muster. Facial control wasn't always his strong suit, but today the stars aligned just right to let him accomplish it.

Quill covered his mouth and turned away, shaking with laughter.

"That's why you don't kick puppies," he mumbled to Gamora. She raised a confused brow at him.

Rocket wiped his eyes again, groaning, "This's gonna cost a fortune. Great. Just great! So much for our big payday."

"You're  _welcome_ ," said Quill.

"Actually, the Nova Core is covering everything," Gamora cut in. She laid her green hand on one of the panels attached to the side of the bed, "Quill contacted a few people and informed them of your condition."

Rocket's whiskers bristled. He curled his lip off his teeth.

"And the hotel isn't gonna charge us for the rooms we booked," Quill leaned over the fuming raccoon, "Rocket, you've gotta lay off the drinking, man. You almost killed yourself last night."

"Shut up!" Rocket exploded, flinging his blankets off and blithely ambivalent about his lack of clothing, "Shut up! Shut up! Shut  _up!_  You don't know what this place is like for me! Groot's the only one who understands!"

Groot placed his hand on Rocket's back to steady his wobbling form. Yes, oh, yes, he understood all too well.

" _I_   **am**   ** _Groot_** ," he told him.

"I know I'm still drunk!" Now Rocket's eyes had a faraway gleam. He was triggered. His mind wasn't in the present anymore. "I-I gotta get out of here. Groot, get me out of here...I can't get taken apart gain! Let's go!"

Groot tried to speak reason to him, he even released several calming fragrances, but his efforts did little to quell his furry friend's growing terror. Rocket's heart rate and blood pressure rose exponentially. He managed to detach the monitoring cuff, which set off code white alarms.

Drax jumped up at the noise, knives ready until he realized there wasn't an oncoming attack. "What is the meaning of--"

"Delirium," Gamora said. She waylaid Drax with a hand and touched Groot's arm, "Groot, you can't make him understand right now."

Suddenly, people flooded into the room in response to the alarm. The frenzy quickly cooled once the medics realized Rocket only took his monitoring cuff off. Seeing uniformed medics pour in sent him scrambling onto Groot's shoulder. Groot safeguarded Rocket with his hand while trying to keep the slack in his IV and catheter tubes.

"Whoa, buddy," Glaraan approached with both gloved hands held palms out in a 'don't-shoot' posture, "Nobody's going to hurt you here."

"Hey,  _fuck_  you and your nice-guy shit!" Rocket snarled, teeth bared, which sent Glaraan backing off again.

Murmuring among the medics. Groot heard two clear words, "...sedation immediately..."

Red up ahead. Drax's markings shone bright on his gray skin as he took a position in front of the door. Likely to capture Rocket if he tried to flee.

"Run for it!" Rocket cried, "Groot! Run, you idiot! What're you waiting for? Get us outta here!"

When Rocket turned to glare, Groot caught him by the waist and set him on the bed. Vines sprouted from around his wrists to surround the angry raccoon, a quick act that prevented further flailing. He nodded to Glaraan, who approached to administer something pale blue via the IV injection port.

" _I am **Groot,**_ " said Groot by way of apology. Seeing Rocket look up at him in utter betrayal almost tore his insides apart. He did this because he cared, because he was Rocket's friend, and told him so. " _I_... **am**... _Groot_..."

Rocket's eyes fluttered as someone from the medic team reattached the cuff on his exposed arm.

"No, you're not," he moaned, "No, you're not. You're not... you're not... you're...not..."

His words struck Groot like lightning. Stunned, he found himself frozen in position while Rocket stopped squirming in his hands.

Glaraan grasped Groot's wrist. Sympathy shone on his face.

"It's safe to release him."

Groot could feel Rocket's soft, furry chest heaving. His little heart pounded like an automatic weapon despite the sedative. Even in his semi-consciousness, he was scared out of his mind. And now he thought Groot had betrayed him to another laboratory to be poked, prodded and taken apart for study.

What if acting to save Rocket cost him their friendship? Groot hated questioning and doubting someone he'd been friends with for so long. He always saw the good in people. Always.

The malice in Rocket's voice haunted him. He would've felt just as hurt and betrayed if Rocket handed him over to people intent on changing his behavior to achieve 'normalcy'.

"Groot," Gamora joined him near the bed, "We should leave and let the medical team tend him."

Groot rumbled wordlessly. He glanced between Drax, Gamora and Quill, who all wore the same unreadable expression. A mix of sadness and something else. Quill whispered something into Gamora's ear. She gave a slight nod and passed whatever the message was on to Drax. Groot couldn't process it over the murmuring medics surrounding Rocket.

Quill rubbed both hands down his face. He spared several glances at Rocket on the bed, shook his head once and looked up at Groot. "C'mon, Groot, let's take a break. It's still early and the cafeteria should be quiet. Let's eat something, okay?"

Groot had the distinct impression that he was being coerced. Everyone clearly wanted him out of the room, possibly to prevent him from interfering with Rocket's care. They  _could_  just say so rather than use a redirection tactic like this. While the idea left Groot feeling a little patronized, he reluctantly acquiesced because he knew he couldn't do anything to help Rocket right now.

"I  ** _am_  Groot,**" he said, his tone dangerously close to total defeat.

Then Drax's stomach rumbled loudly.

"Excuse me," he covered it and his face flushed darker gray, "I haven't eaten in almost twelve hours."

"I could use a bowl of fruit," Gamora sighed. She peered once more at the bed before heading for the door.

Groot hated to admit he was ravenously hungry himself, and not having any dirt to root into meant eating whatever he could by mouth. Chomping a leaf off his shoulder did little to stay his appetite.

One problem with eating orally-- he absolutely could not digest any type of meat. His body reacted violently and painfully to anything meat-related, even the juices. Collapsing in a wrist-biting rage due to abdominal cramping wasn't something Groot wanted to do in public. If worse came to worse, he would slip outside and root himself in the lawn for a short while.

Quill led the way into the hospital hallway. Groot failed to notice the floor pattern earlier, but he saw it clearly now. He didn't like the matte dark brown tiles lining the floor near the walls while the rest of the flooring shone glossy white. His eyesight kept interpreting the pattern breaks as a bottomless chasm. He stepped well over the brown tiles when he ducked into the too-low elevator. Crossing two different thresholds lifted his bad mood like a smoky shroud. And there it would wait for his return.

"Clearly this device was not meant for someone of your height," Drax remarked.

Groot chuckled softly and tried not to bump his head on the metal beam in the elevator ceiling. The Guna custodian had to have it worse than he did. Then again, the Guna probably took the stairs.

Everyone skirted the emergency department when a trauma came in. Groot glimpsed green hair, but the gurney passed so fast he couldn't process anything else about the person.

The group strolled into a largely yellow and brown themed cafeteria with shiny black floors and dark red food trays. Groot really liked the spiraling blue mosaic designs affixed on the walls. He paused in his tracks to examine one more closely. The thick porcelain rang resonantly in response to finger-tapping. It lacked anything resembling a scent or taste, but it had a texture like smooth ice and its surface played beautifully with the ambient lighting.

Groot swayed on his feet, watching a single shard of light reflected on the mosaic's edge shrink to a point when he got close and spread out when he moved away. That way light communicated with the artwork was so pretty to watch. He had to dance with it.

While his eyes stayed aimed at the mosaic, his excellent peripheral vision took in the rest of the cafeteria and put everything together into understandable visual information. The less it bombarded his sight, the more tolerable it became.

"...where did-- oh, he's over there. Groot? Chow time!"

Quill's voice registered in Groot's awareness, but Groot disregarded it for the moment. He wasn't done dancing with light reflecting off the mosaic.

"Groot, we're--"

Gamora stepped in Quill's path, "He may collapse like he did in the hotel if you bother him now," She leaned closer, her whisper not dropping low enough to escape Groot's hearing, "None of us want a spectacle. He will come to us when he is ready."

Trays scraped across countertops. Somewhere in the back, a pan sizzled.

Groot finally felt relaxed enough to shift his attention. He swiped a tray from the nearby pile. Quill beckoned him towards the buffet warmer full of different and colorful foods. Drax looked at it like a predator eyeballing pack animals.

An annoying crackle sounded inside the unit. Fortunately, it was only on the side pointing towards the employee area. Staying near the entrance-facing end meant no painful surprises. Well, except for the  _smells_. Too many! Groot made a face as he studied the edible choices available to him. Meat and greenish eggs occupied one area while fruit cups, breads and multicolored mush sat in another. He decided on two fruit cups and four giant pieces of burnt, plain toast. Those were the only options kept well away from the bacon, sausages and other meat products. Just the tiniest bit of contamination meant a horrible bellyache. He didn't dare risk it.

Groot turned away from his friends and headed for the black table in the corner to escape the crackling heater. The tiny, low brow chair forced his long trunk-like legs to assume awkward angles.

At the table beside him, a young redheaded adolescent girl who wore her waist-length hair in two tight braids pinned together at the nape of her neck. The pink collar on her dark gray dress appeared pressed down by a thick purple necklace. Her practiced hands worked diligently to affix beads of various colors, sizes and shapes around a circular wire. Then she closed the circle with a magnetic clip and wove thin transparent cords across the middle to create interesting shapes. Piles of her artful projects lay neatly aligned on the edge of the table closest to the wall.

The girl twisted to peer at Groot after he tried and failed to get his feet under the ridiculously small table. Her eyes didn't meet his. His didn't meet hers. He noticed she gnawed busily at a chew tube similar to his own, except hers was transparent purple instead of opaque red.

Seeing another chew tube elicited Groot's friendliest grin. The girl noticed his smile. She happily flapped her hands while rocking back and forth on her cushioned seat. Her sunlit joy washed over Groot like an inexorable energy wave. He echoed the girl's movements, guiding the emotion towards its proper home within his chest.

"I am Groot!" he exclaimed, happy to see someone who moved and behaved much like he did.

"I am Groot!" the girl replied, her sweet alto voice perfectly copying his vocal inflection.

Growling laughter bubbled in Groot's throat. The girl boldly grasped his index finger and pulled his hand towards herself, her bright eyes studying the intricacies of his palm much like he stared fractals. She placed her finger on a single green vein near his wrist and traced it all the way up his arm to his  _ARF_  marking.

"I am  _Groot?_ " Groot inquired, fixing his gaze squarely on her forehead. He grew a large flower on the very spot her finger rested. The elaborate yellow petals matched her eyes and the red center formed a textured spiral. He nodded to the blossom, giving silent permission.

The girl picked it without hesitation. She sniffed it, raised her eyebrows and pushed it towards his face. Groot lit up as he inhaled deeply. He gave that flower a particularly sweet fragrance just for her. Then he showed her how twirling the blossom by its stem caused the center spiral and petals to blur into pretty orange patterns of  _forever_. She bounced on her seat and took over spinning the flower, entranced.

Suddenly, she looked up again and yellow eyes met dark brown. Two mirrors peered at reflections of each other. Groot blinked slowly, non-threateningly. The girl did the same. Her gaze was guarded, yet open to anyone who knew how to read eyes.

She clasped the flower in both hands and held it between her eyes, showing him their matching colors. Abruptly, she turned to her table, grabbed a circular wire and bejeweled it with both opaque and transparent brown beads. To finish it, she wove the central cords in a criss-cross pattern much like a mandala.

A giggle escaped the girl. She raised her finished creation into the gloomy gray light coming through the narrow window between their tables, showing him how the beads seemed to glow when illumed. Then she thrust it into his open hand.

Wordless joy radiated down Groot's head to his chest. He echoed a lower pitched version of her delighted giggle and rocked back and forth, channeling his happiness through movement. The beaded creation received his usual five sense exploration. Afterward, he held it up to the light. The brown beads matched his eyes perfectly and its interesting center reminded him of  _forever_.

This girl knew how to  _be_.

"Check it out. Groot has a girlfriend," Quill crooned in a singsong voice as he plopped his tray on Groot's table.

"Look at that...they're communicating," Gamora nudged in beside Quill.

"You sound surprised by that." Drax sat down, his tray heaped with sausages and eggs. He took his smallest knife off his belt and used it to spear the first sausage.

Moments later, someone else rounded the corner. Both Groot and the girl broke eye contact at the same time to face who joined them.

"Here you are, Dessia," Imali set down a tray of fruit, which the girl-- Dessia-- immediately began arranging in neat rows according to color.

Imali's hair looked slightly unkempt and she still had Groot's flower in her pocket. Other than that, her appearance hadn't changed. She noticed who Dessia was so intent on and her expression softened, "Oh! Groot, hello. I see Dessia has given you one of her sun catchers."

"I am Groot," Groot nodded.

"How is your furry friend? Is he recovering?"

Groot shrugged and nodded, not quite sure how to answer that. Rocket showed signs of physical recovery, but he was still a mess mentally. He looked at Dessia and couldn't avoid another smile. She understood  _forever_  like him!

"Ah, this is my granddaughter. She visits me before school every morning. Dessia, this is Groot."

"Ah, this is my granddaughter. She visits me before school every morning. Dessia, this is Groot," Dessia echoed Imali.

"Use your pad," Imali whispered, handing said device to the girl.

Dessia grabbed the clear handheld pad and highlighted a series of icons. The device spoke with a friendly woman's voice, " _Hello! I am Dessia and I am twelve years old. It is very nice to meet you._ "

Drax's face softened into a smile, "Likewise, Dessia. I am called Drax."

Gamora nodded, meeting Dessia's eyes even though her gaze wasn't returned, "I'm Gamora." She smiled a little, pointing, "Those sun catchers are pleasing to the eye."

" _Thank you!_ " Dessia replied happily. Twisting, she scooped up a green one and offered it to Gamora, who accepted it graciously.

"Yeah. You're cool," added Quill, gesturing to himself, "Peter Quill, people call me Star-Lord."

Dessia's giggle was music. After selecting a few more icons, her alternate voice responded, " _You stopped Ronan. You are heroes. I like my home. Thank you for saving my home._ "

She clapped her hands together before turning away. Her delicate fingers worked quickly to assemble two new sun catchers. One was gray and red, the other brown and blue. She passed them to Drax and Quill respectively, then faced forward properly to pick neatly at her food. Every bite was taken daintily with great care. Anything not round had all its corners bitten off first.

Amidst the murmured 'thank you' responses, Groot saw Imali reach for Dessia's pad. Her eyes focused intently on him for a moment.

"Groot, would you like to say something with Dessia's communication pad?"

He stretched forth his hand, more curious than out of any real need to communicate. Yet having the object settled on his palm let him realize he now held a means for articulating things only Rocket could comprehend. And even Rocket's understanding occasionally bounced off impenetrable borders.

Groot scrolled through the available icons. Pictures and words paired together helped him assess their meaning quickly. Even better, they were arranged in various social categories. This thing possessed many more options than the simple word card Quill took from the emergency vehicle.

"Once you finish," Imali guided Groot's finger to a light blue speaker icon in the upper corner, "touch this and it will speak. You can also use this earpiece if you want to hear the icons as you use them. Dessia has them all memorized, so she doesn't need to."

Groot nodded once to show his understanding. He held the earpiece to his ear with one hand while the other swiped, highlighted, deleted, re-highlighted and arranged everything for several long minutes. Hearing everything as he worked helped ensure he assembled his wordless thoughts into coherent, understandable language.

"I am  _Groot_ ," he said, and pressed the 'speak' icon.

" _People assume I am a tall, stupid plant. I understand why I am viewed that way, and I only grow angry with people who voice their assumptions in front of me or treat me as if I am incapable of comprehension_.

" _Every emotion I experience creates physical sensation somewhere in my body. Positive emotions feel wonderful, negative ones are unpleasant. Emotions are my language...I react to yours, you respond to mine and it is a conversation. Not to you, perhaps, but it is to me!_

" _People think I understand little because my expressive speech is not on par with theirs. There are beings who cannot fathom words, let alone a device like this, yet their competence is denied because it is not expressed by your standards_.

" _My behaviors and movements are not pointless or senseless. My inability to speak your words is not incompetence. Comprehension may come slowly and learning happens differently for me, yet both occur in their own time. I understand the words you say and I am always listening_."

Groot bit a piece of toast without caring about corners or neatness. The rough texture felt nice on his teeth. He crunched it happily while waiting for the others to react.

After several stunned seconds, it was Drax-- and only Drax-- who spoke.

"When you shout and chew your arm...what are you feeling? Can you use this device to explain it?"

Imali turned her head, a hand rising to cover her mouth. Her damp eyelashes sparkled like dew-speckled flower stems.

Groot glanced at her, then at Drax. Not even Rocket broached that question. Perhaps answering it would give them insight. Groot raised both eye ridges in thought.

Since Drax asked, Groot knew metaphors of things he hadn't experienced wouldn't work. He studied the available icons and slowly touched several to piece it all together. Remembering the sensations he described created prickly discomfort in his fingers that quickly encroached on his forearms.

" **I** _AM_  Groot."

He commanded the device to speak and immediately rippled his fingers near his ear. Hearing them creak soothed him while moving provided the unpleasant energy with a productive outlet.

" _It is an unpleasant tingling all throughout my body. It is simultaneously painful and numb. It is deep sleep and the battle we fought above Xandar happening on every nerve ending. My five senses become sources of pain instead of information and my thoughts jumble into confusion. I always want to climb out of myself to escape the numbness and pain when I have my fits._

" _The wrist-biting is beyond my control. It is a reflex that happens as surely as your eyes blink. My jaw locks into a loop of action, action, action, so I bite, bite, bite! Sometimes the same compulsion drives me to bash my head against hard surfaces just so I can find it on my body. I never wish to bite my arm or pound my head into things. I do not control my body when I have fits, my body controls me_.

" _Many things can cause them. Heightened emotions, switching between activities too quickly and a lot of movement happening at once are usually the biggest culprits. That is one reason I move in manners you consider strange. Such movements channel the unpleasant sensations and regulate my nervous system. Everyone engages in these self-stimulating behaviors, be it tapping your foot or drumming your fingers on a table while waiting for something. I merely have behaviors that are more obvious and I require their use to maintain equilibrium_.

" _I do not like having fits, yet they are a part of life for me. They are embarrassing and I prefer not to speak of the experience once it is over. You have already been taught what to do for me and how to protect yourselves when I experience one. You did everything right last night. Thank you for that_."

Maybe Groot only imagined Drax's sad smile when he dropped his gaze towards his food tray again. Was he sorry he asked? Or glad to be educated?

Groot examined the screen one more time. He swiped his finger across the device and let it talk while he ate another slice of burnt toast.

" _Dessia is like me. I am like Dessia. I am normal to my own people. Dessia is seen as abnormal to her own people. Why? We are not broken. We are not wrong to be different and we do not need repairing._ "

" _I_  am Groot," he rumbled after swallowing.

"Hmph, anyone who suggests such a thing is a fool," muttered Drax.

Quill and Gamora looked at each other, then at him, then back at each other. Quill smiled. Gamora smiled too. Imali dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Only Dessia remained unconcerned. To her, the talking device wasn't anything remarkable.

"You're right. No one is 'made' wrong," Imali broke the silence. Groot politely passed the pad back to her. Their fingers brushed. Fresh tears welled in her eyes, "Thank you, Groot."

Genuine gratitude warmed Groot's heart. The emotion pulsed through his nerves as physical sensation. Nearly overwhelmed by it, he looked away from Imali. An uncontrollable grin twitched at his lips, so he let it happen and squirmed in his seat until the pleasant emotion subsided.

He shifted his focus onto the beaded sun catcher Dessia gave him. His mind drifted into last night's experience with Kaal. How differently might their exchange have gone if he had a speaking device on-hand? That idea got batted away almost immediately. Communication devices were useful...yet they still required reaching out on his part. Not many people put forth the same effort to use _his_  language. How could others do so when words shaped their lives and thought processes? Words! They were so...so... _limiting!_ Everything needed a name, a description or a function!

Groot twisted the sun catcher, studying how the tiny air bubbles inside the transparent brown beads glimmered like universes frozen in time. His thoughts wrapped around the permanence of each miniscule sphere. Creating words was possible, albeit difficult. 'Un-creating' them meant rewiring peoples' entire brains to match the neurological makeup of a Flora Colossus. It didn't seem fair on either side, yet two vines swinging across opposite sides of a river eventually met in the middle if they stayed persistent. Those brief encounters provided the moments to teach and learn.

Dessia suddenly cried out and slapped the tabletop. The noise shocked Groot out of his reverie. He looked over, alarmed.

"I'm sorry!" Imali bent over the redhead, "Dessia, it's all right. Here, I'm putting it back." She hurriedly resettled the colorful fruit tray she tried to move. Dessia's anguished shouts ceased and she went back to her beads as if her outburst never happened.

Gamora self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "What happened?"

"She gets upset if you change her environment once she arranges it to her preference."

Off to the side, Quill mouthed the word 'wow' at his food tray. He didn't notice Drax shooting him a somewhat dirty look.

Drax hadn't said much during the entire exchange. Sometimes, his silences spoke louder than words. Perhaps the grandmother and granddaughter provided painful reminders of his dead family. He mourned them immensely, judging by the scents he gave off when he thought no one noticed his pain. Drax shed many  _inside tears_.

Imali's uniform rustled as she perched across from Dessia. She bumped the pile of charts on the seat beside her. One activated without her knowledge. The information drew Groot's attention like a magnet. Reflections of Kaal's name flicked across his dark eyes. He read the trauma room number before Imali noticed the chart's glow and turned it off.

" _I_  am Groot."

Groot stood up, waving a hand to make sure Drax, Quill and Gamora stayed to finish their breakfast. He checked the hospital map near the cafeteria entrance.

Within seconds of leaving the others, he heard a flurry of whispering.

"Did  _you_  know he was that eloquent?" Gamora's voice was first.

"You're surprised?" Imali said back, her voice toeing the razor's edge of sounding offended.

"That was... _whoa_ ," Quill replied, "If that's what Rocket hears when Groot talks-- wow, I'm an a-hole. I kind of knew, but at the same time, I, well..."

"Bah!" Drax spat, "People call me primitive because I struggle with metaphors and fight like a madman. Does that make me incompetent?" He plopped something on his tray, "I never doubted Groot's competence. You're both imbeciles if you did."

Hearing Drax stand up for his sake brought a brief smile to Groot's wooden face. He exited the cafeteria and headed towards trauma room six. Peripheral movements registered in his awareness enough for him to dodge the people and equipment crossing his path. His eyes tried to follow everything at once. Annoyed, he grasped both tips of his chew tube to ground himself. He arrived at trauma room six in time to see orderlies pulling a sheet over someone lying on the gurney.

"That's what happens when you don't bring credits back to your pimp," muttered the gruff male medic.

His female partner scoffed, "Tch, good riddance. People like him spread diseases. Total waste of resources."

"Come on, Fentha, that's rude."

They laughed scornfully as they exited the trauma room, completely unbothered by the death that took place right in front of them.

Orderlies busily swept up the wrappers and syringes littering the floor around the gurney. None of them paid Groot any mind when he approached the gray sheet and lowered it to expose Kaal's lifeless white face. The Xandarian's green hair stood out even more now than before.

Kaal's black hole eyes stared at nothingness. They did not see Groot when he bent to look into them. His purple lips gaped around the tube protruding from his mouth. The skin around his eyes, ears and nose was blue as ice. Blue-black bloodstains marked his nostrils. Lowering the sheet further revealed two horrific stab wounds in his side.

Suddenly, Groot felt horribly guilty for not giving the lad some money. He probably owed a large sum to his higher-up, and returning empty handed resulted in his death.

Maybe he  _was_  a drug-addicted criminal. Or he may have been providing payments for his disabled brother's housing through the only means he knew how. The medics grossly misjudged him-- just as he misjudged Groot's competence. Writing him off over one mistake didn't seem fair.

"Did you know him?" asked a member of the cleanup crew.

Groot nodded, not caring that he was acquainted with Kaal for a few brief minutes.

Both members of the cleaning crew finished up and slipped out, leaving him alone with Kaal's pale corpse.

Leaning over, Groot awkwardly brushed his mouth against the young man's brow. He reacted badly to being kissed the first time because he hadn't expected it. Returning the gesture now, albeit belatedly, felt like the right way to bid Kaal farewell. Because if he didn't say goodbye kindly, who would?

Somewhere on Xandar, a young man was going to look out a window and wonder why his brother wasn't visiting anymore. The sad mental image created a lump in Groot's throat. He gazed at the lifeless person who had been alive, talking and breathing only hours ago. He gazed at him without the judgment or condemnation thrown at himself.

Echoes of the medics' derision stung in Groot's ears. Did this fellow's life hold less value because he was a sex worker? Did his employment mean his dreams, hopes and fears didn't matter?

Groot smoothed the sheet over Kaal's head again. As he turned away, he realized Kaal taught him something about love after all.

Two orderlies came to collect the body. Time to go.

Groot stealthily swiped a forgotten stethoscope off the trauma tray and casually made his exit.

Imali and Dessia were gone from the cafeteria. Drax, Quill and Gamora hadn't moved from the little corner table. The area was slowly getting crowded with sleepy doctors, rumpled nurses and occasional lay people.

"Groot!" Quill called out, "We're having a debate about your 'I am Groot's'. Help us settle it!"

Knowing the neighboring table was empty let Groot stretch his legs out rather than curl them up in knots. He ripped the lid off a tiny fruit cup and drained its tasty contents like a drink. Only after he noticed Gamora's arched eyebrow-- and the spoon she dipped into her own fruit cup-- did he realize his uncouthness. Her eyes flicked sideways to Drax, who appeared intent on destroying his tray along with the food he kept spearing on his knife.

"Right, so," Quill rubbed his hands together, unaware of the silent exchange, "Rocket didn't exactly explain this one. He just said you're talking, so, you know..."

"What he  _means_  to ask," Gamora cut in, "Exactly how much are you saying each time you speak? Is it as much as you said through Dessia's device?"

Such a funny question brought amusement flickering across Groot's expression. He studied the word card. It looked extremely limited when compared to Dessia's pad. He set the card down and let his fingertip hover above the color-coded text.

Now all three of them were intent on him.

"I.  _Am._   ** _Groot,_** " said Groot. His finger shifted quickly between  _speak, meaning, satisfied_ , and returned to  _speak_.

"Ohh," Gamora dabbed her mouth with a black paper napkin, "I see."

Quill licked the back of his spoon, "So you can mean an entire fifty-page speech just by  _how_  you say you are Groot?"

Groot nodded once without hiding his amused grin. Flipping the card over, he pointed at  _body_  and  _action_. " _I am_  Groot."

"Rocket said your actions are often expressive of something," Gamora set her fruit cup aside. She was more alert after eating. "If words are so few for you, then how do you perceive thought?"

Why did they wait until he'd given Dessia's device back to ask these complicated questions? Their timing actually took him aback. He studied his own rippling fingers, searching the vast fractals of his mind for a sensation or emotion to marry the complexities of thought into the simplicity of language. How could he put something so colorfully huge inside the tiny blue boxes of words?

"I  **am**  Groot..." He took a stab at it anyway, gesturing at  _no, word, use_  and  _vision_. Then he held up his finger and traced the spiraling mosaic on the wall behind him. Because his thoughts were often spirals-- boundless, spinning, weaving in and out of each others' coils.

Quill, Gamora and Drax looked at each other. None spoke a word. Groot couldn't read their ever-shifting expressions. He got the distinct feeling they didn't quite follow what he intended, yet their misunderstanding wasn't as frustrating as his life in a prison laboratory.

These people  _wanted_  to know the real him. The lab technicians and scientist did not.

"Groot, it's all right," Gamora's hand covered his when he reached for the suddenly too-primitive word card. She'd misread his quick movement for frustration.

"We're working on it," said Quill, who immediately flashed his quick half-smile, "Uh...does it mean anything to you if  _I_  say 'I am Groot'?"

No, it didn't work that way...however, Quill's attempt was too funny. Groot snickered, shaking his head.

"You're idiots," grumbled Drax, "I'm going to get more sausages."

His chair squeaked as he extricated himself from the table. The sausages he desired weren't yet replaced. He loitered there to wait for more.

"I guess he's pissed because he isn't picking it up."

Quill thought he only whispered that to Gamora, but he forgot about Groot's acute hearing. Groot gave no indication of noticing the exchange. He demolished the rest of his toast and two more fruit cups. The hunger vying for his attention finally quieted.

"I intend to keep learning," Gamora spoke aloud.

"Mmhmm!" Quill stuffed half a breakfast roll into his mouth.

Groot wiped a crumb off his lower lip. His gaze moved past Gamora without focusing directly on her. Try though they might, he could tell they still questioned just how much he really understood. He possessed immense intelligence to them when he borrowed Dessia's speech device. Without it, his perceived competence sank once again into obscurity.

Such judgments weren't entirely their fault. His friends were the products of their environments, and from their perspective his neurology resembled a disability.

There were days where Groot wished everyone had mind-reading capabilities that let them see how his mental processes worked. Besides, he was often curious about the mindscapes of people who thought in words. What did their thoughts look like?

Chairs scraped as three Krylorian nurses took over a table near the entrance. Their pale orange uniforms didn't have any ranking pips. Probably students learning their craft.

"What happens if you try to say something besides the usual?"

Groot's gaze locked onto Quill's arched eyebrow. Deciding to show him, he focused intently on his stiff larynx, his tongue and the shape of his mouth. He tried to hold his lips and tongue in position while producing sound at the same time.

"R-r-r-gh...  _M-r-r-r-gh_ \--" He knew, inherently, that he needed to open his mouth to produce the next syllable. It refused to happen, as though he sent the command to someone else's jaw. Halfway through trying to say Rocket's name the standard way, he grew tired and his voice, tongue and lips slipped automatically into the usual, gruff phrase,"-- ** _I_** _am Groot._ "

Suddenly, he became self-conscious and drew back. Everyone else spoke words so freely while the simplicity of speaking mostly escaped him. He hated the reminder that he existed in a world where his limited spoken vocabulary forced him to prove his competence time and again.

Even though his friends were  _trying_  to understand and getting closer to doing just that, the difference still seared the scars left by the prison laboratory.

But Groot did not resent his teammates for touching old wounds. To be fair, their intelligence seemed equally strange and foreign to him. He, too, was learning their ways bit by bit. Like two vines swaying across a river-- they had their moment of contact while he borrowed Dessia's pad, but now they were swinging apart again.

"I  _am_  Groot," Groot said, holding up his empty food tray. Bringing it close to his face, he sniffed it, bit the side, tapped on it and stuck his fingers in all the food grooves while studying its shiny dark red finish. Examining it in the manner most natural to him transfigured it from an abstraction of an object he only vaguely knew how to use into something real and memorable. He set the tray down and pointed at everyone else's trays. "I  ** _am_**   _Groot_."

Gamora casually bit the end of her spoon, as if trying to piece together why Groot mouthed the tray.

Groot took it a step further. He reached right across the table, grasped her wrist and placed her hand above Quill's. Then, taking Quill's forearm, he flipped his hand palm-up and interlocked their fingers. At their curious glances, he indicated  _feel_  on the word card.

"His hand is...strong, warm...I can feel his pulse in his fingers," Gamora spoke first, her gaze finding its way to Quill's eyes.

Nervously, Quill licked his lips and blinked several times. "Um, her hand is, uh, kinda cool, and, um-- it's  _green_."

Groot shook his head. They still used words. So he covered their mouths, preventing them from speaking. At that, they got the message-- neither spoke once his hands withdrew.

Groot watched in fascination as Quill and Gamora's faces gravitated closer to each other. Their eyes began to close.

Drax returned to his seat with his second tray full of sausages. Quill and Gamora leapt apart, startled, and Groot face-palmed at the spoiled experiment.

Quill appeared relieved at the interruption, though Groot couldn't fathom why. Gamora's cheeks took a slightly darker tinge as she rubbed the side of her neck. She glanced at Groot, then quickly peered downward at her empty fruit cup.

"Okay, that was fun. Groot, one more question," Quill ignored Drax's baleful stare, "How do I know you aren't calling us all dicks every time you say 'I am Groot'?"

And Drax almost choked on his mouthful of sausage. The frown he aimed at Quill possessed enough venom to destroy a solar system.

"Must you continue questioning him?" he sneered.

"How else am I gonna learn?"

"Ugh!" Gamora kicked Quill's leg under the table.

"Groot, quick, how do I know? Tell me before they kill m-- ow!" Quill whined, "What? I wanna know!"

" _I_  am... _Groot!_ " Groot only had time to point at  _unknown_  on the word card before his laughter broke free.

"Peter Quill, you're an imbecile," Drax grumbled.

Maybe love meant listening and accepting.

.o

Returning to Rocket's room filled Groot with trepidation. What if Rocket threw him out again? What if leaving him in the hands of the medics destroyed their friendship?

Groot's mind conjured images of leaving planet Xandar alone. He decided that if their stint as friends ended there, so be it. Rocket was alive to see the rain fall again. Better alive and here than dead and gone.

He found Rocket sitting up in bed, busily using a black plastic spoon to pick at the purple jelly-like substance in a clear bowl. The bowl sat atop a flexible white unrolling tray affixed to the bars on the bed.

Someone gave Rocket a tiny wrap hospital gown to wear. Even the smallest one was a little too large. Its gray sleeves hung halfway past his elbows. He didn't appear to care.

Groot nervously nibbled a leaf off his forearm. He turned away from the door, stopped, faced it again and sighed. The negative emotions he left behind were already seeping back into his consciousness. His weight shifted with further indecision. Stay, or go?

Rocket pushed the tray away after two bites of the purple stuff. He appeared alert again-- whatever sedative given to him probably had a short active period in his bloodstream.

"I hear you looming in the doorway, Groot."

Uncertainty wafted off Groot because of Rocket's neutral tone. Was he still angry? Scared? Sad?

"I... _am_  Groot?"

"Do I hate y-- no! What the hell? Get in here before the food lady barks at you for blocking the hall."

A far better reaction than Groot expected. He sat awkwardly on the stool beside the bed so Rocket didn't have to crane his neck so much. The brocaded curtains drew his eyes and he calmed himself down by fixating on the pattern.

"I just read my chart. I fucked myself up good this time, didn't I?" Rocket held up the transparent pad containing his information. "I guess I need to lay off the hard liquor for awhile."

Groot wished Rocket gave up drinking for good, yet knew it wouldn't happen. Addicts never quit their addictions unless they decided to do so on their own. Trying to force change on people who didn't want to only built resentment. Plus, Groot knew the feeling of having undesired behavioral modification forced on him. All he could do was watch over Rocket in the real world the same way Rocket looked out for him in the prison lab.

The chew tube bumped his chest when he shifted his weight. He scooped up the hollow tips and absently gnawed them. Having it on him came in handy for self-soothing. Perhaps, someday, he would attain enough courage to wear it at all times without fear of waking up in a laboratory.

Sheets rustled as Rocket scratched the back of his head. Moving sent the lines on his monitor screen spiking. He glowered at the two IV tubes attached to his arm. Then his eyes shifted to Groot's dour expression.

"Geez, you're moping hard. So you think I hate you? What's the matter with you? You know I don't!"

A faint shudder twitched Groot's back. His gaze switched off the curtains and affixed on a point between Rocket's eyes.

" **I**  am... **Groot.** "

Rocket blinked twice and made eye-contact that Groot didn't quite return.

"Oh, come  _on!_ " he snapped, "You know how I get when I'm triggered. I say shit I don't mean all the time."

Groot spat out the chew tube and averted his eyes completely. Memories of Rocket's voice speaking,  _"no, you're not,"_  played in an endless loop across his memory. Recalling it knotted his chest. Drugged or not, Rocket  _never_  denied their friendship before. Never!

Rocket could say insulting things to Groot all day. Groot didn't take it personally because Rocket mouthed off with textbook predictability when he got angry. But saying they weren't friends anymore--  _that_  felt like a stab to the heart.  _That_  was enough to make Groot cry inside.

Inside tears were so much worse than outside tears because nobody saw those tears. Nothing ached more than crying internally while surrounded by people who couldn't hear it.

And even though Groot remained ninety-nine percent sure Rocket  _didn't_  mean what he said, that one percent still  _hurt_. Nobody in the universe knew Groot's mental quirks better than Rocket. Which meant he would understand that Groot needed to hear the truth from its source in order to stop him from obsessing over that measly one percent.

" _I am-- Groot_ ," he rumbled under his breath.

"I really don't remember what I said," said Rocket, all malice gone from his voice. "Tell me what I said, Groot."

Groot's eye ridges settled in a line. The inside tears became outside tears. He couldn't hold them in anymore.

Repeating Rocket's phrase hurt, but he forced it out, "I... **am**   _Groot_."

Rocket looked like someone kicked him in the gut.

"Groot...really?"

Groot held the sides of his head and let the sap tears fall into his lap. His expression twisted, but he didn't sob. There were no movements to ease this horrible heavy feeling. Not even his worst wrist-biting fit could relieve it. The hot weight just sat there on top of his heart, _aching_.

"I. AM.  _GROOT!_ " he choked, mouth quivering.

"Aw shit!" Rocket grimaced, pushing himself upright and laying his tiny hands on top of Groot's huge ones, which still clutched at the sides of his head. He brought their foreheads into contact-- he truly meant whatever he intended to say when he did that-- and spoke, "I definitely,  _definitely_  didn't mean that. We're still friends, Groot."

" _I_  am Groot?"

"Mmhmm. Always, really and forever," whispered Rocket, "There, better?"

The pain sitting on Groot's heart withered into relief. He slipped his hands out from under Rocket's and embraced him.

"Augh, now you're getting mushy! Groot!" Rocket fake-coughed, "Okay, okay, so I messed up. What do I have to do to make this up to you? Make it as funny as you want. I'll do it for you."

Groot's tears had long since stopped falling. He let go of Rocket, rubbed the sap into his cheeks and pondered. His face became deathly serious. Oh, he knew exactly how to hash this out.

"I...  _AM..._  Groot."

"That's  _it?_ "

Another resolute nod.

"But--"

Groot tightened his mouth and arched a brow, waiting. A promise was a promise!

"Okay, okay!" Taking a deep breath, Rocket spoke aloud, "I'm sorry for being a giant asshole..."

"I am  _Gr-o-o-o-o-t_..."

"...and I'm going to watch how much I drink..."

"I  _am_  Gr-o-o-o-o-t..."

"...and-- wait, what else?"

" _I_  am Gr-o-o-o-o-t..."

"Oh, come on!"

" ** _I_**  am Gr--"

"Fine! Fine! Okay..." Rocket glared, "...and Groot is the best back scratcher in the universe." He crossed his arms, pouting, "There, I said it. Are you  _done_ , Groot? Can we shake on it now?"

Groot happily offered his right index finger for Rocket to grasp. Their eyes met. Rocket made his honest face at him.

With that handshake, Groot granted complete forgiveness. Not just to Rocket. He also forgave himself for letting a few drugged-up words create unnecessary doubt.

Maybe love meant forgiving.

.o

Groot hoped to remain at Rocket's side every minute of his hospital stay, but Rocket insisted everybody 'get the hell out for awhile' to give him breathing room. Deep down, he was embarrassed to be seen in such a state. Groot knew him too well, and he silently encouraged the group to go.

Quill hailed a transport. Gamora appeared to be nursing a headache. Drax acted extremely avoidant of a statue depicting a mother and child outside the hospital entrance.

The white transport landed and opened its doors. Nobody talked much on the journey back to the hotel.

Groot felt strange entering the hotel room without seeing Rocket forming a lump under the bedcovers.

How could silence be so  _loud?_

He padded into the bathroom, threw a towel over the scary vacuum toilet and stepped into the shower. His foot bumped a switch underneath the shampoo caddy. Something beneath the floor vibrated and an oval-shaped metal bathtub formed around the shower drain. Not a dinky little mold-infested soap dish of a bathtub. No, this was large enough to fit two Gunas.

Groot examined the entire thing until he deemed it safe. He grinned widely before switching on the water. Feeling it pour onto his head and slowly fill the tub around him was pure delight. Within minutes he sat chest-deep in his own private pond.

He exhaled completely and submerged to lay prone on the bottom of the tub. The water's heaviness surrounded him like a cocoon of safety. His eyesight was nearly as excellent underwater as it was above it, so he had immense fun studying the caustics dancing on his own bark and the tub's bottom. The slightest disturbances of the water's surface changed their size and rhythm.

Thirty minutes went by. Groot's lungs tingled with the reflexive desire to inhale and exhale again. He surfaced and greedily gulped air, satisfying the urge. His lungs existed purely for phonation and waste removal via gas exchange. To him, not breathing was something akin to ignoring a filling urinary bladder-- eventually, bladders overrode the body and took care of themselves. Inhaling water wouldn't kill him, but it was a most unpleasant experience he preferred to avoid.

Groot moved to the center of the tub. He leaned over until his face went underwater and relaxed, trusting the water to suspend his body on its surface. Letting his head hang forward submerged it completely once again. Reality shifted from high pitched splashing noises to low, muffled burbling. Now the water was slightly cloudy with the dirt that sloughed off him. The tension from last night fell off with it. His eyes drooped and lost focus, so he closed them.

The water stilled until he couldn't feel it anymore. He floated like a corpse with his arms bent, his hands near his head and his legs partly splayed. His ears rang with a harmonic tri-tone for want of something to fill them, but beyond that he experienced no sensory input at all.

Groot remembered a similar non-sensation after his body exploded painfully apart inside the Dark Aster. His vision went from Rocket's tearful face to blankness. There was nothing at first. And then...bright, bodiless freedom. No pain, no sorrow, just peace. He would've stayed happily inside that light if Rocket's painful crying hadn't called him back. A choice he still, do this day, did not regret.

Swirls erupted behind his eyelids. Like his ears, his eyes "rang" with elaborate patterns of color and light to fill in the nonexistent visual input. His sense of touch responded next. He began to tingle as if his atomic makeup was slowly expanding into the cosmos. The entirety of the universe embraced him while he entrusted himself to its vastness. Losing body awareness wasn't scary when he willingly let it happen.

Groot floated in complete freedom for forty-five minutes. What a joy it was to simply  _be_.

Then his lungs began protesting the lack of use. He ignored their disquieting urges until he couldn't anymore. The visions ended and his self-awareness returned.

Groot knew he toed the razor's edge of a wrist-biting fit. Reconstituting himself needed to happen slowly, one sense at a time.

He located his limbs again by letting his knees and hands touch the bottom of the tub. Pushing upward, he surfaced to gasp for air. So long in near-complete silence made his echoing inhales and exhales sound like a wind tunnel. The droplets trickling off his chin were asteroid impacts. Feeling the water move against his bark wasn't so bad; it helped him determine the boundaries of his body in relation to his environment. Now, for the worst part. He opened his eyes, hissing at the stabbing brightness of light reflecting off the white tiles.

Tiredness hit once Groot's jangled senses settled. Getting out of the tub entailed too much trouble, so he didn't bother. He sat cross-legged in its center. Roots and vines extended all around to hold him upright.

And there, he slept in the water for twelve straight hours.

When he woke up again and went to visit Rocket that night, he took the pack of casino cards he found in the hotel desk. They spent hours playing Xandarian Blackjack.

Maybe love meant loyalty.

.o

The rain stopped on the second day. Afternoon sunshine poured down between the buildings and trees outside the Xandarian hospital.

"Getting out of here must be a lot better than getting out of prison," Quill remarked as an orderly pushed Rocket's wheelchair towards the awaiting white transport vehicle.

Groot suppressed a snicker when Rocket glared a hole in Quill's skull.

"It ain't as fun as escaping a prison, no. Why can't I just walk like everybody else?"

"Hospital policy, sweetie," Veila replied.

"Yeah? Groot, where's my gun? I'll shove this wheelchair policy up everyone's ass."

Drax opened the transport's back door. He balked at Rocket, "How do you plan to accomplish that?"

"That is a metaphor, Drax," Gamora nudged him. She was currently carrying the bag of medications prescribed to aid in Rocket's recovery.

Mandatory medications came in labeled silver boxes with beepers and blue signal lights. They beeped and flashed when it was time for a dose. A sick person wasn't able to stop the noise or light unless they pushed a button to dispense a pill. Even better, the computer inside recalculated the next dose in the event somebody missed taking it on time. The purple bottle contained vitamins, the white one was a sedative for anxiety and the last two-- which were stored in silver alarm boxes-- would help Rocket's liver and kidneys recover from the alcohol toxicity. He was required to take them all as intended.

Groot knew Rocket wouldn't comply without prompting, so he appointed himself the pill guy. He memorized each pill's name, appearance and purpose after the pharmacist doled everything out. The Nutri-Plenish vitamins were gold gel caps resembling marbles. The Vaanit sedatives looked like tiny white triangles. Hepitol, the smooth liver capsules, were dark brown and shiny. Renatol, the pink, disk-shaped kidney pills, felt disgustingly chalky.

The hospital staff worked so hard to keep Rocket comfortable and anxiety-free during his stay. He hated being there, but he didn't seem overly traumatized by the experience. Groot thanked the staff by growing a huge bouquet of flowers and leaving them on the front desk.

"Don't baby me!" Rocket shook off Gamora's attempts to help him into the transport vehicle. He climbed in under his own power, grumbling the whole way.

Gamora squeezed in behind Groot. Quill used the other door. Where did Drax go? He was holding the door two seconds ago.

Groot spotted red near the statue outside the hospital's main entrance. It stood amidst the flowers dotting the well-groomed lawn soil.

This wasn't a time for Drax to stand alone. Groot scrambled over Rocket, Quill and Gamora to exit the vehicle again.

"Watch it!" Rocket growled.

"I am Groot?" Groot asked upon reaching Drax's side.

Drax turned, his pale blue eyes moist, "Are you inquiring about my thoughts?"

The words hardly registered in Groot's ears because he could only see the shimmer of unshed tears threatening to escape. He knew exactly where Drax's mind had gone.

Then Drax started speaking, "My wife, Hovat, liked flowers. There was a field of them near our home, and it bloomed every spring. I never picked flowers for her. Instead, I took her to the field. She later gave birth to our daughter, Kamaria, in that flower field. That was the happiest day of my life..." his brow furrowed and his voice quieted, "They were standing in that flower field when Ronan slaughtered them."

A sympathetic lump welled in Groot's throat. He laid a friendly hand on Drax's muscular shoulder.

"I... _am Groot_."

Drax blinked the droplets from his eyes and cleared his throat, "Thank you, my friend. Your-- wait, I think I understood what you said. Did you just apologize for my loss?"

Delighted, Groot nodded eagerly. " ** _I_**   **am**  Groot!"

Drax's chuckle provided a welcome retreat from his almost-tears. He patted Groot's upper arm, a gesture of friendship on his planet.

"Unfortunately, my understanding stops there," Drax managed a shaky half-smile of his own, "but I will keep listening."

Groot grunted and patted his upper arm, completing the friendly exchange. He looked him straight in the eyes when he did it.

"You honor me," said Drax, "No, wait, let me try to say it  _your_  way."

He smiled again like sunshine bursting through clouds. A true, genuine expression of gratitude. Groot's echoing grin was all the response necessary.

"Hey, idiots!" Rocket hollered out the transport door, "Nobody's getting any younger in here. Geez, you pick the worst times to have a moment!"

And Drax's momentary gentleness vanished again, replaced by a bulging vein above his left eyebrow. He glared at the vehicle. "Cease your yammering! We're coming."

Groot frowned and spread his hands at Rocket while Drax approached the open transport door.

"Wh-- I wasn't jealous," Rocket snorted, "Groot, get in here."

"I am Groot?"

"So? Sit on the floor."

Clouds briefly shrouded the sun. Groot wiggled into the vehicle and twisted to sit on the floor. The doors slammed and the engines shrieked. He covered his ears until the transport lifted off.

"So long, losers!" Rocket yelled out a side window.

"I am Groot!"

"I don't care if it's rude! They shoved a tube up my dick!"

Groot rumbled at him, "I am  ** _GROOT_.** "

"Wh--" Rocket's eyes widened and both ears stood straight up, " _I'm_  a dick?"

Quill let out the biggest, most uncouth snort and buried his face in his hands. His entire visage went redder than the sky at sunset.

"So that's the 'I am Groot' for that," he guffawed, slapping himself on the knees. "You  _have_  been calling me a dick, Groot!"

Groot beamed innocently, feigning obliviousness. "I am  _Gr-o-o-o-t_."

"Yes, you have," Gamora said, a sly grin creeping along her features, "I heard you do so more than once."

"Mmhmm," added Drax, "So have I."

"Well, you're a bigger dick," muttered Quill.

Glancing twice let Groot realize his friend's offended tone was completely facetious. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he gestured at himself.

" _I_. Am. Groot!" he snapped before dissolving into snickers.

Rocket emitted a high-pitched howl and doubled forward, his furry frame shaking with mirth.

Quill's gaze shifted to Rocket, "Uhh...translation?"

"He s-- he...h-he s-said--" Rocket couldn't stop cackling long enough to spit it out. He started up again every time Groot so much as _looked_  in his direction. Seeing him laugh after such a scary health crisis meant everything. Groot's memory took snapshots.

"He s-said-- ahaha!-- a-and I quote, 'That's right--pfft!-- I am the bigger dick here, b-because  _I_  d-don't have any t-trouble standing up!'" Rocket managed to choke before losing it again.

"I'm in a vehicle with  _children_ ," Gamora muttered. Her genuinely scandalized look made the whole thing even funnier.

Quill scrunched his face and collapsed sideways, holding his sides. He could not sit up again for the life of him.

Drax did not get the joke at all...and his blank expression sent Groot around the bend with the others.

"Erections, Drax!" Quill squeaked between laughing fits.

And Drax face-palmed at everyone.

"You're idiots."

"Agreed," said Gamora.

Groot threw his head back, clutching at his stomach as fresh amusement overtook him.

Maybe love meant listening.

.o

Rocket dozed off in the transport vehicle, so Groot prompted everyone to be quiet for the last half of the journey. At arrival, he carried Rocket back into the hotel room.

"Will you be okay if we head out for awhile?" Quill took the baggie of medicines and set them on the desk inside the door. "Heh, the day's still young and the gambling's good."

Groot laid Rocket on the bed. He turned, smiled and nodded once.

Gamora peeked her head in, "Good luck, Groot. You know how to reach us if there's any trouble."

Another nod.

Drax wordlessly pulled the door shut.

The liver and kidney pill boxes both beeped at the same time. Two different pitches that, together, created awful dissonance. Rocket stirred as Groot hurried to stop the grating annoyance.

Groot retrieved the silver water glass and approached Rocket with the medication balanced on his palm.

"I am Groot?"

"No, I'm not hungry right now. Maybe later. I can take these on an empty stomach anyway. It's those shitty vitamins that are gonna wreck me. Can we just flush 'em instead?"

And there lay the reason Groot chose to dispense the medication. He wanted to be sure Rocket actually  _swallowed_  the pills.

" _I am_  Groot," he said.

"Whatever you say, warden."

Groot cocked his head. He pushed the pills and water insistently forward and swore he wouldn't move until he saw them consumed.

Sighing, Rocket took both pills with less fuss than expected. He put the water glass on the nightstand and flopped backwards against the fluffy gold pillows. Purple and brown bruising marked his grayish-pink wrist where medics shaved his fur to place IV lines. Groot only noticed the bald spot because Rocket used that hand to rub at his forehead.

"I did was sleep in that damn hospital and I'm still tired."

A deep frown crossed Groot's features. He shrugged his shoulders before looking out the window. Though he'd forgiven his best friend for what he said, he still felt upset at him for being so careless.

"Yeah, I know. I screwed myself up," Rocket grunted and tugged the shiny, swishy comforter out from under the decorative pillow.

Groot's frown smoothed away upon hearing Rocket acknowledge his own mistake. Good, he wasn't completely oblivious to how close he came to permanent damage. He got lucky.

This time.

"I  _am_ \-- Groot."

"Tch, yeah, but talking about it sometimes makes it worse for me, Groot. It's easier to get drunk and not care. I..." he sighed, "I dunno if I _can_  stop."

Changing Rocket would be both an exercise in futility and unfair to him. However, Groot could still watch out for his safety. He swore to protect Rocket. That included protecting Rocket from  _himself_  at times. So while he had no intention of barring him from alcohol, he planned to keep tabs on how much he drank.

" ** _I_**  am  **Groot.** "

"You ain't serious about that. C'mon! I'll try to cut back, okay?"

" ** _I_ am Groot,**" Groot replied, his jaw set and resolute.

He expected his insistence to make Rocket angry. Instead, his furry friend rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. I promise not to drink while I'm taking these stupid pills. Is that good enough for you?"

Delight brightened Groot's face. Warmth poured onto the top of his head and trickled to the bottoms of his feet. He rumbled wordlessly and allowed himself a long, growling yawn. His yawning provoked one from Rocket, who fidgeted with his clothing. The hospital gave him a filmy dark blue tunic and shorts to maintain his dignity for transportation. He didn't appear in any hurry to peel them off.

Speaking of clothes-- Groot rushed back towards the bathroom. Rocket's regular attire was washed, dried and left hanging with the towels. A note from the hotel staff wished him a speedy recovery. Groot breathed a relieved sigh at one less  _thing_  that needed doing and returned to the bedroom.

The bedding practically swallowed Rocket, who lay curled up on his left side to keep the window at his back.

"This thing's memory foam," he squirmed beneath the covers, "Groot, get on here. You gotta feel this."

Shrugging, Groot almost yanked all the covers clean off and pushed his hands against the mattress. His fingers left imprints that quickly disappeared. He pulled them away and studied his palms. The weird softness freaked him out a little.

"Tch, it's not going to eat you, Groot. Get on."

So Groot did. Unlike the cheap, crummy beds he was used to, this one didn't transfer movement at all. Rocket hardly moved while Groot gave the foam a bounce test with his knees. This stuff wasn't very bouncy-- that took a little of the fun from it. Bouncing on springy beds was one way he liked to jerk Rocket's chain. He settled at last, dragging the covers up with him.

This memory foam actually felt fantastic to lay on. Like soft mud, except dry and without residue. He explored it through all five senses to memorize it for good because wanted to recognize this stuff again in the future.

Lying down flat wasn't a natural sleeping position for Flora Colossi. In fact, getting horizontal often  _increased_  alertness. Groot could fall asleep any time he wanted if he relaxed while propped up at any angle other than horizontal.

Metal jabbed at Groot's hip. Feeling for the annoyance revealed the stethoscope he swiped from the emergency department a few days ago. He totally forgot he had it.

Sheepish, he stared at the tiny tool on his wooden palm. An idea spiraled through his wordless thoughts like filigree.

"I am Groot?" he offered Rocket one of the earpieces.

"What's this?" Rocket eyed it. He placed it in his ear after seeing Groot do the same, "Where'd you get this?"

"I  _am_  Groot."

Groot touched the microphone receiver to Rocket's chest first to see if it still worked after being submerged in water. It did! His friend's heartbeat sounded stronger than it had in the hospital. Hearing that soothing pick-pock evoked his warmest smile.

Then Rocket's voice boomed through the earpiece, "Yeah, that's my heartb-- oops. Yeah, that's my heartbeat. So?"

Holding up one finger, Groot straightened and placed the microphone on his own chest. He wanted Rocket to hear the life devoted to him.

Rocket adjusted the earpiece in his pointed ear. He focused on Groot's face, his eyes squinting as though trying to piece the meaning of this together. Quite the departure-- usually it was the reverse.

"W-we--" Groot struggled, "--ah-- a-ah-- ahhh-I am  _Groot_."

The words wouldn't emerge right this time. He spent a full minute trying and his speech organs weren't cooperating. Frustrated, he sat up and slammed his knuckles together to avoid punching himself in the throat. He held that pose until the crushing anguish unwound.

"Groot?"

"I am...  ** _Groot_.** "

"You're a lot of things, Groot," Rocket spoke quietly, subdued, "but you ain't a failure. So what if you don't talk as good as everybody else? So  _what?_  You never felt sorry for yourself about it before. I'm not gonna let you start now. C'mon, where's the big idiot who thinks he's the normal one and everybody else is weird?"

" _I_ \-- AM  **Groot!** "

"Oh, yeah? Tch, I never had trouble understanding what you mean. It's not your fault if their ears are too full of shit to pick it up."

Usually, Rocket's cynical pep talks amused Groot into forgetting about a foul mood. Unfortunately, this time, it didn't work. Dessia's face and Kaal's unnamed, unseen brother floated through his consciousness like specters. People saw his normal, natural neurology as a  _defect_. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the notion.

Worse, Groot sensed the way Quill and Gamora looked at him a little differently than other people. Not intentionally...more of a reflex beyond their control. Drax, ironically, never got that odd gleam in his eyes. So far, he proved more willing to really listen for meaning rather than rely on Rocket's translations. And he was supposed to be the completely literal one with no imagination.

Groot's shoulders ached. He wiped irritably at the inner corners of his eyes. Comparing himself to people he only met once or twice was one thing. Being around the same group on a near-constant basis really opened his eyes to how uniquely his species processed the world. He was always aware of his differing neurological makeup, yet he paid little attention to it because Rocket acted as his social crutch.

Without Rocket's help, Groot found himself awakened to how people viewed him. Having to repeatedly prove his competence over the past few days grew exhausting.

Nobody meant to doubt his intellect. Beings who spent their lives tied to spoken words equated articulate speech with intelligence. Young infants were incapable of speaking until their brains developed the language and muscle coordination to produce it. So that meant anyone of a language-speaking age who did not speak  _lacked_  something. And people who lacked something were considered _disabled_  or, worse,  _defective_.

And because of this esoteric social hierarchy for determining sapience, people tended to infantilize, segregate or pity anyone whose communication skills didn't match the common denominator. Quill and Gamora took part in this through no fault of their own; they were the products of their social constructs.

But they made efforts. They  _tried_.

Drax held the most promise. He specifically said he didn't doubt Groot's competence. Perhaps his willingness to learn would lead the others to do the same. Then, given enough time, the swinging vines of understanding might have more chances to meet in the middle.

Then there was Rocket.

Rocket never treated Groot differently than anyone else. Then again, he wasn't exactly a typical case himself. He began life as a simple four-legged mammal who thought without words. That gave him a basic understanding of Groot's thinking processes. Secondly, Groot became the first person to really look at him as more than a test subject.

Groot squinted and voiced the curiosity still spinning within his mind.

"...I am Groot?"

"Hm?" Rocket scratched at his ears, "Yeah, I still remember. Everything was instincts and pictures. I can't do it anymore. Now it's like hearing myself narrating things in my head. Maybe that's why you have it rough when you read. You don't have a narrator reading the words."

Sighing, Groot hummed a low, a wordless longing. The closest he came to thinking in words was recalling the things said to him by other people. Memories played back perfectly, like data recordings. Not one thought of his own sounded like his voice. Almost as if he didn't have one at all.

For the first time in his life, Groot honestly wished he could be like every one else and  _talk_  in a way more people understood.

He hung his head and absently wiggled his fingers by his ear to hear them creak. Boulders of doubt crashed through his mind. What if lacking a voice  _did_  make him lesser and everybody was too polite to say so? What if the laboratory technicians and scientist were right to force 'proper' behaviors on him? What  _if?_

Sheets rustled after a moment's silence. The microphone receiver's coolness touched his chest again, and his own heartbeat flooded his ear.

"Listen," whispered Rocket, "You hear that noise? You hear it?"

Groot met his best friend's eyes. Full eye-contact. Rocket laid his free hand on Groot's shoulder to align his ultraviolet  _ARF_  thumb tattoo with Groot's burnt-in one.

"I've got my honest face on, so listen up. You're hearing what priceless sounds like.  _Priceless_ , Groot. Now hold this and gimme some forehead."

Rocket handed the microphone over and stood up straighter. Groot held the microphone against his chest when he leaned forward. Their foreheads touched. He felt Rocket's small hands grip the bark below his ears.

"I had to lose you once to realize what priceless is, and nothin' measures up that. So don't waste your time on someone who makes you feel worthless. You're not worthless. You're a damn priceless gem and I'm the luckiest jackass alive to have a friend like you in my life. You're the only person I'd willingly die for, and that's sayin' something for a selfish guy like me. I'd  _die_  for you, Groot. You hear me?"

Stunned, Groot numbly grunted the affirmative. He heard the words, but hadn't fully processed them yet.

"Good, because that was the sappiest shit I've ever said. Must be the hospital drugs...but I still mean it! Don't feel sorry for yourself, Groot. You're better than that. Okay? Okay."

Rocket wrinkled his snout like he ate something sour and crawled back under the covers.

Every word he said sank in once Groot properly digested their meaning. The sudden happiness they brought wasn't a lightning strike of warmth suffusing energy through his limbs. No,  _this_  happiness unfolded like a flower blooming beneath the lone shaft of sunlight illuminating a darkened cavern. A secret buried-treasure euphoria only friends knew how to give each other.

Groot laid the stethoscope on the nightstand and took out Dessia's sun catcher. He wanted to keep a vigil in case nightmares disrupted Rocket's sleep.

And as he gazed at the brown beads full of  _forever_ , he pondered everything he learned about love during the last few days.

 _Love_  meant many things: Giving, receiving, being present, loyalty, remembering, accepting, helping, listening, honesty, toughness, gentleness, forgiveness and openness. Like a fractal, the boundless emotion called love revealed its splendor each time he zeroed in on its various aspects. Its true power could not be contained in the confines of a mere word. No spoken language, no written poetry, no art and no music came close to expressing its rawness.

Groot almost dropped the sun catcher at this sudden new awareness.

As the quote scratched onto Quill's music device said, love gave him the courage to sacrifice himself for his friends' sake. Love let him see them as more than misfits and criminals. Love let him believe them worthy of saving. Love was the feeling he experienced in the bright, white  _forever_. And the love in Rocket's tears called him back.

His mind quickly flashed through his choice to save everyone. Rocket tried, selfishly, to stop him because he didn't want to be left  _alone_. He regretted all the times he insulted Groot and he wanted to take those insults back, but there wasn't enough time. Little did he realize the pained look on his face expressed everything spoken words could not.

In the same breath, Groot remembered the nature documentary about the female mammal giving birth. Her cubs were deeply connected to her by the life she gave them. She fiercely protected and nurtured them, sometimes using her own body to do so. Primitive and animalistic though it appeared on the surface, she still acted out of  _love_. And she possessed no concept of the word!

Today, Rocket, Drax, Gamora and Quill lived with the life Groot gave back to them.

The blankets rippled. Rocket grunted and climbed off the bed. "Gotta piss, be right back."

Hearing the vacuum toilet wasn't so scary from the bedroom. Groot happily spun his sun catcher, watching it sparkle in the thin sliver of sunlight peeking through the hotel curtains. Rocket exited the bathroom. He stopped and glared at the blue lamp by the desk.

"I am Groot?" asked Groot.

"Tch, no. You see that thing? What kind of shithead lights it up blue?"

So Rocket didn't like the lamp? Good! Neither did Groot!

Groot crossed the expansive hotel room, snatched the offending décor by its central pole, opened the window and flung it out with great gusto. He watched it smash to pieces on the concrete outside. No more blue light.

Satisfied, he pulled the window shut, tugged the gold curtains together once more and turned to grin brightly at Rocket. Problem solved!

Rocket snickered and hopped back onto the bed. He settled again after punching the pillow a few times. Groot resumed studying how sunlight played off the sun catcher's beads.

"What'cha got?" Rocket yawned.

Groot showed him the brown sun catcher.

"Mmh, nice. Kinda like it."

Upon hearing those words, Groot held the trinket out to Rocket with his sincerest smile. The warm feeling in his chest grew at seeing his gift accepted. Rocket let it dangle off his thumb and swung it in the sunlight sliver.

Seeing Rocket's happiness at receiving something so small helped Groot realize he knew plenty about love after all. He  _loved_  Rocket with his whole heart and Rocket loved him back. That was it. They just called it friendship and wrapped it around the words  _always, really_  and _forever_.

"Hey, Groot?" Rocket squinted at the sun catcher, "What's this thing supposed to be?"

People who thought in words needed to give something a name and a function before it made sense to them. Even the most abstract, obscure concepts had a designation of some sort.

To those thought in words, nothing could exist as just a swirl of color or an emotion braided around someone's heartbeat. Taking words away from people who used them turned their world unreal-- like an object Groot couldn't fully comprehend without using all five senses to explore it.

Maybe  _words_  weren't so bad. Just annoying.

" _I_  am  _Groot_ ," he said, bouncing a little where he sat.

"Oh. Thanks," Rocket tucked the sun catcher under his pillow and stretched out on his stomach, "Goin' to sleep for real now. You don't have to stick around. Go out and hit the slots if you-- argh! Leave the covers off, will you? Anyway, go hit the slots if you want to."

Groot shook his head and mirrored Rocket's pose. "I am  _Groot_."

Moments later, Rocket's bushy tail whacked him upside the head. A silent signal he recognized as clearly as a spoken word. He immediately rolled over on his back. Rocket climbed onto his chest and resettled on his stomach, his nose barely an inch away from his chin.

"Fuckin' mattress is too soft," grumbled Rocket, "You mind?"

Of course Groot didn't mind, and indicated as much by languidly folding his arms behind his head to flatten his chest. This wasn't the first time he provided a resting place for his raccoon friend, and it wouldn't be the last.

Rocket fell asleep almost immediately-- evidenced by his ears tilting outward and his exhales slowing down.

The foam mattress cradled Groot much like the water in the bathtub did. Except, this time, the weight on his chest kept him grounded in his environment. He grew steadily aware of Rocket's heartbeat thumping away next to his own. Now that he knew what it sounded like, he could imagine the soft pick-pocks.

Sugary heat coursed through Groot's entire frame like a banked flame spreading from his heart to his fingertips. He stayed perfectly still because he didn't want to interrupt its path.

Softer than excitement, yet stronger than happiness. Hot like the desire to weep without the sadness. Fierce, strong, something to guard with his life.

This emotion outshone everything else. Letting his body explore the physical sensations advanced his recognition of it.

Yes. This felt good. The 'right' movement emerged on its own when he freed a hand to smooth the fur behind Rocket's ears. Rocket shifted contentedly in his sleep.

Love didn't require any labels, descriptions or definitions. Groot closed his eyes and relished. Feeling it was enough.

.o

.o

 _"...it's an unspoken thing,_  
_a quiet opening;_  
_there's no words that go that deep,_  
_but I know..._  
_I know!"_

\--Celine Dion, "I Know What Love Is"

**Author's Note:**

> Everything related to blue puzzle pieces and blue lights are all my means of giving Autism Speaks the finger. ;) 
> 
> The reasons I'm against Autism Speaks are explained in the vlog I'm linking to. Don't worry, a transcript of the speech I wrote and read is in the description section beneath the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVcAuIs0yPs
> 
> If you want to get behind an autism organization, I highly recommend the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network. (ASAN)


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